An Alphabetical Journey
by Cristipotter
Summary: AAML for each letter of the alphabet. A collection of Pokeshipping drabbles/one-shots. Rated to be safe. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Air

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon. I wish I did, but sadly, I don't.**

**Air**

She needed air. That was all she wanted; some fresh air with no trace of cigarette smoke or champagne smell in it. The room was crowded with unimportant faces, appetizers that pretended to be food, and chattering voices that said words with no meaning.

"Excuse me" she interrupted the quite dull conversation she had unintentionally engaged into about the new president of the Pokémon League. She politely smiled at the two suit-clad men and walked away, accelerating her steps as she got closer to the wooden door that would lead her to the empty backyard.

The noises, the soft music; it all seemed distant when she closed the door behind her, her skin feeling at last a wave of air brush against it. She tried breathing in deeply, but her tight dress deprived her from the pleasure.

She was alone, the backyard was empty and hidden between the shadows and the night sky. Kicking off the high heels she had gotten just for the occasion, and that had tortured her feet to no end, she stepped into the grass. It felt moist and cold against her bare feet; refreshing. Her hands worked on the tight straps on her back that held the recently acquired red dress together; no one would notice, everyone was too busy with their own, dull lifestyle.

The straps were much too tight against her body, and were taking more work than she would've imagined. She groaned, wanting nothing more than to be free from the heavy fabric that pressed against her chest, that kept her from breathing the fresh air before her, that irritated her to no end. She had paid a fortune for it, and yet, the time to get rid of it couldn't come sooner.

"Argh!" she gave up; the double knot Daisy had made was impossible to undo. Her hands fell heavily at her sides, and so did her head, where her fiery red hair had been pulled tightly into a fancy French plait. Her chest ached, her lungs wanting nothing more than some air.

"Need help with that?" it was him, his voice startled her and made her jump on the spot. She turned around and found him walking out of the darkness between the trees, approaching her. His tie was undone; the first buttons of his white shirt were too. His hair had lost the neat look it had held just an hour before.

She didn't answer, but looked away silently, rooted to the spot, bare feet against cold grass. He didn't wait for an answer either, and she could soon feel his hands moving against her back, his body inches from hers, his breath tickling her bare shoulders.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked after several moments where they had both kept silent. His hands still attempted to undo the tight straps of her dress, and she felt pleasant chills every time they suddenly brushed against the bare part of her back "Why aren't you inside? It's _your_ party, after all."

His hands left her and the straps stopped pressing against her body, and the dress became loose around her torso. She finally breathed in deeply, holding the fabric against her chest so it wouldn't fall. The aching sensation eased as oxygen filled her, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the moment.

"I just needed air" he said.

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**That was short enough to be a drabble, right? Anyway, ****I hope you enjoyed it even though it was short. Reviews are appreciated :) **

**Thanks for reading!**

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	2. Blush

**I posted the last drabble as a one-chaptered fic, but it was always part of this set of drabbles; one for each letter of the alphabet, which I've decided to post for all of you who enjoy my AAML stuff. Thanks to all of you! :)**

**I want to apologize because I haven't posted anything in a while, but this past couple of weeks have been crazy for me. My sister got married, my teachers went crazy, and I spent this weekend indulging into chocolate and Evangelion; I'm now feeling sick to the stomach and slightly mind-raped, but still happy to finally know what the fuss was all about: I understand it now, since Evangelion was pretty amazing, even though it made me go 'huh?' _way _more than once. **

**Anyway, a friend of mine gave me the words for the drabbles, so it is now up to me to figure out a story for each of them. I've got some of them written already, so I'll be posting them between short lapses of time... hopefully.... :P**

**Disclaimer: Believe me, if I owned Pokémon, I wouldn't be writing this for a fanfiction site. So yeah, not owning Pokémon.... yet. **

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**Blush**

"Why are you blushing?"

"I –I'm not blushing!"

"I can see your face, you know" she says while folding her arms "you're as red as a Charmeleon."

"Well… that's because I'm sunburned…" he shifts his eyes, avoiding her blue gaze.

"It's winter, you dork" there's an unusual calmness in her voice "Why can't you just admit you find me attractive for once?"

His blush deepens, and his heart races as he thinks of admitting such a thing to her, even if it was true.

His eyes leave the floor and return to her; she wears a gigantic, green Christmas sweater which sleeves are longer than her arms. It has a Psyduck with a Santa hat knitted on the front, and it looks just as lost as her own Psyduck. Her red hair is down for once, tangled, falling just above her shoulders, and the contrast against the green fabric is overwhelming.

"Why would I find you attractive? You're wearing a sweater that was clearly not made for you with a stupid Psyduck on the front." He says, raising his voice, trying to dissemble his current emotions "To top it off, your hair looks as if you've just gotten out of bed."

To his surprise, she doesn't seem fazed. Instead of retorting some witty answer at him, a grin spreads on her face, amused by his quite childish defense.

"So if you find me so unattractive, then why are you blushing so much?" she chuckles.

He scowls; he isn't supposed to feel this way. Not about her. She's wearing the most hideous outfit in the history of Christmas, and yet, the heat keeps rising to his cheeks, his heartbeats keep an unusually high rate.

"You can tell me…" she shrugs "we've known each other for years."

He hesitates for a moment; she seems so indifferent about it. She thinks he blushes for a silly reason, for boyish discomfort, for awkwardness.

"I'm blushing…" he says through gritted teeth, clenching his fists "… because you're wearing the most awful sweater I've ever seen in my life, your hairs looks as if a Pidgey decided to nestle in it, you're probably the most unattractive, annoying, hot-headed, crazy, violent girl in Kanto, and yet, I think about you all day long, even when I don't want to. I get these weird feelings when I see you, and all I can think about right now is how amazing it would feel to kiss you."

His voice lowers around his last words. He focuses on her, and her expression has lost its amusement. She stares wide-eyed at him as a blush slowly creeps to her face, matching his own.

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**Hope you enjoyed that! Reviews are always appreciated... -wink, wink/nudge, nudge- seriously, not trying to be needy here XD**


	3. Clash

**Here goes another drabble, for another letter. The next one should take me a little more time to post because I'm having a bit of a struggle with it. Anyway, hope you enjoy the AAML-ness :)**

**Disclaimer: still not mine!**

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**Clash**

People told me very often how impossible it would be for us to ever be together. 'You two just clash too much' they said, making any kind of hope I would've held inside me evaporate in a matter of seconds. I dueled against that thought countless times; so many sleepless nights I spent wondering just how much we _did_ clash, and if it really was that bad. After all, in our earlier days people had told us how our constant bickering only reflected our suppressed feelings towards each other. But as years passed by, fights got nastier and nastier, and all that was left for me to do was accepting that we, in fact, did clash too much for our own good. I also had to accept the fact that sooner or later I would have to bury my feelings deep inside of me, set them in a place were I would hopefully never find them again, because it didn't really matter how much of a 'best friend' he considered me to be, my feelings towards him had proved to be one-sided through the years.

But that was before, and now, I still wonder how it happened; how two people whose personalities clashed so much could be now together, _happy._ How had these two people defied everything everyone had ever claimed about them? Proved all the predictions, all the advice, all their opinions to be so completely and utterly wrong?

It had been simple really. I never would've expected him to be the voice of reason for once, and yet, his words had changed everything. The words he said after I had voiced my personal struggle, just after my twenty-first birthday party was over and I was left alone with him to clean up, had represented something so simple and so clear that I still wonder how blind I really had been, and how stupid for listening to all those people with their awful advice; people that never thought we would ever make it.

"Misty," he had said, as if he was saying the most obvious thing in the world "that we clash just means that, in spite of our many –_many _differences, we just can't help sticking to each other."

Surprisingly outsmarted, and yet relieved to the bone, I realized that clashing was not as bad as everyone had painted it.

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**Reviews are highly appreciated. :) Thanks for reading!**


	4. Dandelion

**I had a bit of a struggle with this one, since I didn't want to make it overly-cheesy or clichéd. Dandelion is, after all, a word that reminds me of those overly-romantic fics, just like any other flower does, so I had to play with it a little bit and hopefully this drabble turned out alright. **

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who has reviewed. :D I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: Still not owning Pokémon. **

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Dandelion

"I would really appreciate it if you stopped blowing those stupid flowers in my face. You very well know… about… about my…" Ash was able to jerk away from his red-headed friend before the violent sneeze that escaped her body interrupted her "…allergies." She finished weakly as she rubbed her hand against her quickly-reddening nose.

"Aw, c'mon. Blowing dandelions is fun!" he said as he attempted to blow another one of the delicate white flowers on her face. Misty grabbed his wrist fiercely before the air had a chance to escape him and moved his hand far and away from her face.

"Stop that!" she demanded, feeling her nose twitching to release another sneeze "What is it? Do you _like_ seeing me sneeze my brains out?" and with that, she was able to let go of her friend and bring her hands up to her face in an attempt to muffle the air that escaped her so fiercely. She sighed, feeling her nose becoming stuffy by the second.

When he felt he was safe from being showered with one of her sneezes, Ash walked up to Misty again, holding up the dandelion he hadn't been able to blow before and making it hover between his head and hers.

"I think this is all a big fake" he said, his voice holding a too-cheerful tone that, Misty realized, indicated that he really felt like bothering her right now "I think that you're _pretending_ to be allergic, and deep down you just _love_ me blowing this in your face."

This time, air escaped her in the shape of an incredulous snort.

"_Why_ would I pretend to be allergic? And _why in the world_ would I love you doing that?" her voice was becoming nasal, which only proved her point further "I _am_ allergic!"

"Are you really?" he asked, his brown eyes narrowing at her while they stared from behind the delicate dandelion between his half-gloved fingers.

"I am" she replied coldly, letting her own eyes narrow back at him, almost mirroring his expression if it wasn't from the lack of amusement hers held.

"Really, really?" his eyes were almost slits now, and with each word he had gotten closer to her own face. She could feel his slow breathing on her skin, and if it wasn't for the dandelion standing between them, it would look as if they were up to something that involved lips and touching. The mere thought made Misty's stomach do something that felt like a double back-flip inside her.

Trying her best to dissemble the current circus act that was having place in her chest and stomach, but still feeling the heat creeping up her neck up to her face and the tips of her ears, she managed to blurt out "Really."

Her voice came out not only nasal, but incredibly shaky, which only made her blush even more than before. She would've cursed herself if she hadn't been so paralyzed the moment when, seeming to sense the nervousness in her voice, the amusement and defiance in Ash's boyish features were replaced with his own awkwardness and embarrassing realization of exactly how many inches apart he himself had gotten them to.

Their faces were so close that if he removed the dandelion, they would be practically kissing already. Her breathing became heavy with the thought, and her eyes refused to detach from the brown ones that were staring right back. She could feel his uneven breaths tickle her lips, leaving a tingly feeling behind.

For one crazy second, she imagined the dandelion simply not existing and her dense, black haired friend closing the gap between them. The thought surprisingly pleased her, and her heart rattled inside of her when she imagined that he could actually be doing that in the following seconds.

Without changing his expression, she saw him lean a few inches forward even though the flower was still between them. She let her eyelids fall slowly, imagining that she would be feeling his lips on her soon. Her heart raced, the tips of her fingers tickled, but she kept as still as she could.

Suddenly, a rush of air hit her face along with a thousand little tickly, soft things brushing against her skin, which could only be the particles of a dandelion. She opened her eyes instantly, and his face was still right where it had been before with the exact same expression. The only difference now was the lone stalk that now lingered between them, held between his rusty fingers.

Her nose twitched, and realizing that she never would've thought that a dandelion could actually hit you _that_ hard and hurt you so deeply, she felt no remorse whatsoever when, without even trying to bring her hands up to her face, she let out a sneeze that was sure to shower her black-haired friend for the week.


	5. Elastic

**I'm updating quickly! Actually, I had written this drabble before Dandelion's, so that's actually why it didn't take me that long.**

**I want to give a warning and say: there's implied stuff in here, people! What can I say, Elastic is a weird word...**

**Disclaimer: Not owning. **

**Elastic**

As she flipped through a silly women magazine carelessly, barely noticing what was written on top of each page, Misty came across a picture of a raven-haired someone she knew just too well. Returning to page six exactly, after her brain had processed that the person in the picture was in fact Ash Ketchum, she read the title and rolled her eyes.

**Everyone's favorite Pokémon Master unveils his deepest secrets!**

God knew how he had agreed to do this, _again._ Sighing and realizing that it was still half an hour before having to pick up Togepi at the Center, she leaned back on the couch and held the magazine closer to her face.

_You know him; not only skilled at battling, but skilled at melting hearts…_

A snort escaped her before turning back to the magazine. She still couldn't understand how he had turned from the dorky boy she had met ages ago to a sudden heartthrob for teen girls and sexually repressed thirty-five year old women.

_Ash Ketchum reveals his secrets to Glam! _

Throughout the whole interview she didn't find anything remotely interesting or new. Every single question had been asked before, and had been answered with similar if not pretty identical replies. She almost knew them by heart; loyalty to his friends and teammates had gotten him far, never giving up, fighting for what he believed, yadda, yadda, yadda. What was so _unveiling_ about the interview, then?

As she got closer to the last paragraph of the article, she found a subject that had been touched in almost ninety percent of his interviews, leaving the other ten percent to magazines that actually focused on sports or on Pokémon.

_When asked what type of women he preferred to end the quite pleasant interview, the young Master blushes slightly and flashes a charming smile while replying…_

His reply then was what made her understand what _was_ so unveiling about the interview. She had read his usual answer countless times; funny, smart, independent, nice… and so many adjectives that would qualify for any decent guy looking for a partner. But what she read just made her jaw drop, before growling and dropping the magazine itself.

_"Well, I prefer them funny and smart, of course. But my type is definitely Gym Leader, preferably red headed, hot tempered, and elastic in bed." _

"You stupid, dumb-assed, IDIOT!" she screamed into the phone while glaring at the magazine lying on the carpet, the face of the person in the other line smiling seductively at her from page six "what the hell were you thinking, Ash Ketchum?!"

"Hey, hey, calm down there!" his voice unsuccessfully tried to sooth her from the other end of the line "What's up with you?!"

"What happened to _never-talking-about-it-ever-ever-again_?!" she yelled, not worrying about blasting her friend's eardrums into the next century.

"Oh… so you read the article? I thought you hated Glam –"

She interrupted him with a wave of colorful and quite creative insults directed solely at the young Pokémon Master, too nasty to even mention fully, but which included something to do with Raticate's balls and shoving Farfetch'd's stalk up his –

"Alright, alright! Well, you know what? What makes you think I'm talking about _you_ in that article, huh?"

"Oh, right Ash, I'm sorry. I forgot about all those Gym Leaders you sleep with!" her voice was heavy with sarcasm "I guess they're all red heads, hot tempered and _elastic in bed_ too, huh?"

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**My friend Claudia, the person who set the words for this challenge, said that she didn't know what to expect with elastic, but it was definitely not this. Reviews are as always appreciated! **

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	6. Fantasy

**I've been so, so, so busy. I never really knew how hard school would get when you're about to graduate. But I've finally found the time to update! I want to thank absolutely everyone who has reviewed. Thank you so much! Reviews are truly encouraging :)**

**This chapter is probably not something you would expect with 'fantasy', but I hope you still somehow enjoy it. I wrote it while being in a quite weird mood, so yeah. **

**Disclaimer: Still not owning.**

**Edit: I'm re-posting this because something happened when I first uploaded it, and many things got... changed, and weird. Anyway, next chapter will be up soon!**

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****Fantasy**

"Don't be a sore loser"

"I am _not_ a sore loser" he said even though the tone of his voice and his sulking demeanor proved otherwise.

"You're right. Look at you, accepting your defeat so gracefully" she smirked down at her black haired companion who now folded his arms, deepened his frown and refused to meet her eyes "You're probably the sorest loser in Kanto."

"Well," he said after taking a deep breath and standing up, reaching his full height which had never been able to surpass her own but now decently matched it "I wouldn't be if you weren't such a cheater!"

"Me? A cheater?" she barked a laugh that seemed to lack any true humor before adding "I won the battle fair and square, Ash."

"We went through this already!" she could see his gloved hands clenching at his sides "You know you're not supposed to use Togepi against Pikachu!"

"Oh, yeah? Says who?" she folded her own arms in a threatening fashion as her blue eyes narrowed at the still aspiring Pokémon Master.

"Says… well… _I _say so!"

"Give up Ash! Accept that I won this, already. Besides, a deal is a deal. I don't know why you're so reluctant to do it, anyway. I've done it for you before!"

"But it was never this embarrassing, okay?!"

Ignoring his last statement, she turned around on the balls of her feet and stalked away to their bedroom upstairs "It is on the coat closet. I'll be waiting!" she called in a fake, sweet voice as her steps died away and the bedroom door closed with a click.

XXX

"Can I take this off, now?" he said after he had entered the bedroom and had stood before his partner in what she had meticulously chosen for him to wear. The fabric between his legs itched, and the tentacles protruding from his sides deprived him from moving his arms properly.

"_No_. Not yet! This is _my_ fantasy, Ash, so you better start acting sexy" she rested her back against the pillows, and after gaining no apparent reaction from him, she added "C'mon. I'm waiting."

How he had ended up marrying a woman with such strange fantasies was something he'd probably never understand. But he had to figure out how to act sexy in a Tentacruel costume before said woman lost her nerves and pulled out that God-forsaken mallet.

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**There you go! I want to apologize for the weirdness, specially from Misty's part. And for the implied Ash-abuse too. For the Friends fans out there, you probably noticed I was inspired to write this one from a certain episode... tell me if you recognize it ;)**


	7. Gold

**Thank you, thank you to those who reviewed. I'm really glad you're liking these drabbles so far :)**

**I've been busy with school, but I'm finally updating now. So here we go, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Pokémon = not mine.**

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**Gold**

It complimented her hand, decorating it so delicately, and fitting so perfectly in place as if it had been made exclusively for her only. The sunlight shone on its surface as she stared at it from every angle her pale hand could muster; it was almost blinding to see.

_'It's pure gold'_ he had said, although she knew that wasn't completely true. She waved her hand softly and the light was reflected on the Mew-knew-how-many karats diamond encrusted in the golden jewel that now circled her long, fourth finger.

Pure gold or not, a woman would've done anything to possess a ring like the one she had been given now by him. Not only would they have loved to feel the precious stone press against their skin, or their finger weighing more than necessary, or maybe finally gaining the weight their hand had so longed for.

They would've been happy because owning such a piece of jewelry not only complimented them physically, not only called the attention of others, and not only meant having a reason to boast about one thing or another. It meant having someone finally complimenting your own life; someone to spend forever and a day with, someone asking for your love, only to have even more love in return. It was something that would've filled any woman with overwhelming joy.

A woman would've _killed_ for that.

And yet, there she sat, staring blankly at the ring. _Pure gold_. It was funny how some things that are thought to be perfect can end up being completely the opposite if seen from the right perspective. How people can pursue gold with their holy might and, when finally getting it, realizing it isn't the kind of gold that was wanted.

Lowering her hand she pulled from the drawer on her bedside table, detaching at last her eyes from the ring. Being part of an old piece of furniture made the drawer difficult to open, but after a few tries its contents were revealed with a loud creaking sound.

It was instantly staring back at her from the bottom of the wooden case. She took it between her fingers, letting it dangle from the chain in front of her face; it was everything but luxurious. The remaining sunlight shed over the carved wood, the shadows marking the shape of the baby Pokémon she had once lost. She could almost remember how his hands had felt against her skin while he had placed it around her neck. The hands that belonged to someone so dense who wouldn't have guessed she needed help putting the necklace on unless she told him. A certain friend who had thought of her while buying a carved Togepi; everything from expensive, everything but luxurious. And so completely thoughtful.

She stared at it. The paint was peeling off, the carved material was losing its depth; it resembled a Togepi less and less. She could feel her eyes stinging when she realized that something so simple, so humble, could truly be gold.

All she had left now was an expensive ring on her hand. A ring she felt like chucking across the room so she would never have to face it or its owner again. _Pure gold._ She had had pure gold before her, and she had missed it.

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**I'm sorry if this was confusing in any way. I hope you still liked it in spite of that. **


	8. Hero

**Hey there! Here goes another chapter. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far :)**

**As always, Pokémon is not mine and sadly, it probably never will be. So on with the drabble then!**

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**Hero**

She could feel it throbbing under her fingertips. Everytime she touched, ever so lightly, he would wince in pain, press his lips together, and clench his fists on his lap; white knuckles against worn-out denim.

"I'm sorry" her voice was barely above a whisper as her fingers, cold with the ice they had held, felt the unusually warm skin under them "It's really bruised."

He kept silent, and she once again dipped the cotton on the cold water and ran it softly over his blackened eye. He was sitting on his bathroom's toilet over the closed seat, his head bent backwards and directed toward the red headed girl standing by his side.

"What happened, Ash? Who did this to you?" she asked. Her voice was still low but she could feel the indignation taking hold of her every word.

His rich eyelashes flicked as his good eye opened. His deep brown iris stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, almost lost, before it focused on her face.

"It doesn't matter" he said simply, his voice dull, before looking away and closing his eye once again.

She let out a soft sigh, almost inaudible if it hadn't been for the deep silence they were immersed in. She threw out the soaked cotton and pulled a new one from the bag by her side. She dipped it in the water, feeling the half-melted ice chilling her fingers, and pulled it out with a little jerk of her hand, not careful anymore now that her clothes and Ash's were now equally wet in some parts.

"How can you say it doesn't matter" her voice was no longer a whisper, the indignation now seemed evident. She leaned her shins against the toilet, her body towering against the raven haired boy's, raising the wet cotton above his face "You come back home _hours_ late with a black eye, and looking as if you'd gotten out of a fight. And Brock had to take Pikachu to the Pokémon Center! How can it not matter?"

"You want to know what happened?" he said, pulling his face away from her tending hands and looking straight at her from his one good eye "a group of jerks were bothering a girl. She was not even _our_ age. They were trying to steal her Pokémon and do who knows what else to her. I found them teasing her after they had thrown her on the floor of an alley, five of them… and we went in and helped her. She escaped, I got this."

As soon as he finished speaking, he assumed his last position and closed his eyes, waiting for her to get back to the tending. For a moment she just stared at him; his black hair sticking out from every direction, his still boyish features, and the bruises that were starting to cover many spots all over his tanned skin. Each of them seemed to make her throat clench more and more.

Silently, she leaned against the toilet and unavoidably against him, placing the cotton tenderly over his eye. He winced again, biting his bottom lip until it turned white.

"Why do you have to have such a hero complex?" the words were out of her lips before she could control them, as low and indignant as they had been at first.

"What?" his good eye shot open.

She hesitated for a moment before continuing "why do you have to go around playing the hero and… and… getting in this stupid trouble!" with each word her voice had raised an octave, until she was pretty sure it could be heard from outside the room.

He pulled away from her hands again, this time more fiercely.

"Playing the hero?" he asked as if making sure he had heard correctly. She didn't reply, knowing that an answer was not really what her friend wanted "It's not about playing the hero, Misty. It's about doing the right thing!" his voice rose above hers "Or would you've wanted me to ignore them? Or maybe just stand by and watch? Maybe helping them would've been good too…"

"I didn't mean that."

"It sounded like you did."

"Ash! You could've gotten killed!" she was almost yelling now "yesterday it was a silly Pokémon battle, and today you get hit… who knows what could happen to you tomorrow!"

"C'mon Misty" he said "I've been through far worse. _We've_ been through far worse. Together."

They both fell silent for a moment, just staring at each other under the dim yellow light of the bathroom. She pressed her lips together and without a word she dipped the cotton on the water once again and brought it to her friend's face, who now got back to his last position. She fixed the pitch black strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes, running her fingers softly against his forehead and hairline, feeling his half-wet hair brushing against them. She could see a purple bruise appearing on his other cheekbone, and a small cut on the side of his lower lip. She resisted the urges to rest her fingertips against his face, along his lips, run them across his thick eye-lashes. Instead she placed the cotton on his black eye.

"We were reckless back then" her soft voice broke the silence "we didn't even know what we were doing half the time."

There was a pause before he replied.

"But we still did the right thing, didn't we?"

She just nodded, even though his eyes were closed and he couldn't see it. She put the cotton down and touched the bruised eye directly with her fingers again; it wasn't throbbing anymore. Without any control, her fingers were now running away from his eye, along his cheek and down to his chin.

"I'm sorry" she said, her fingers lingering on his face "I just don't want you to get hurt."

And with that, she pulled her hand away.

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**Hope you liked! Reviews are always appreciated :)**


	9. Idiot

**I have exams this week, _again_, and I really don't feel like studying for the Math test I have on Monday. I've been writing this instead. :D**

**I quite like this one. It's weird, but... I don't know. I like it. **

**Edit: Tweaked it a little in the end. Realized it felt a little... unfinished.**

**Disclaimer: Not owning Pokémon.

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**Idiot**

"So how are you and Mr. Idiot doing?" he asks as casually as if he were asking about the Cerulean weather or the morning news.

"Stop it" she sounds stern and finds her hands tightening around the steering wheel "Don't start."

"What?" he isn't good at faking innocence, but the attempt still sends a small spark of anger into her brain, and her hands tighten even more.

"If you came _all_ the way from Pallet just to criticize Luke, then you should have just saved yourself the trip." She slowly comes to a stop as they meet with a red light. She takes the opportunity to look at her friend in the eye "He isn't an idiot."

"He missed your birthday party" he says defensively as he folds his arms over his chest.

"If that makes him an idiot, then I don't know what kind of jerk _you_ are" she looks away, and her eyes meet once again with the deserted street intersection, the red light hanging uselessly above them "You've missed most of my birthdays."

"That's not fair; you know I'd been traveling outside the region! What has _he_ been doing? Helping Chansey polish her eggs?"

The light turns green and she steps on the gas pedal without a second of thought. The car advances, pushing the two back on to their seats.

"When he opens his own Pokémon Clinic while you're _still_ struggling to become a Pokémon Master, then I'll be laughing at you and your sorry ass" she says as a bitter smile spreads over her face. Her hands relax around the steering wheel, and one of them even drops to her lap. The car moves swiftly through the almost empty streets that lead the young friends from the Cerulean City Train Station to the Waterflower's Gym.

"I doubt you'll be laughing when he has slept with half the Joys in Kanto. I bet he's doing Saffron's right now –Ow!" her free hand hits him on the arm just over the elbow, her knuckles puncturing his muscles.

"Stop that!" her hand returns to the wheel and she feels her breathing tighten. She can see him rubbing his arm from the corner of her eye "I can't believe how much of an idiot you are."

"_I'm_ the idiot?" he asks as he sits straighter on the shotgun seat. She steals a glimpse at him to see his brown eyes looking straight at her. Her eyes turn back on the road "I'm not the one who keeps making lame excuses to stop from coming to see you."

"As you did all those years ago…" she can almost taste the bitterness in her voice.

"I was traveling!"

"Well, Luke's been busy too! He's not making up excuses, he's been busy with his studies" the gigantic Dewgong that welcomes them to the Cerulean City Gym becomes visible in the distance, announcing them that they were about to arrive.

"Okay, if that's what you want to believe, that's fine" he relaxes back into the seat, folding his arms and looking outside the window at the many trees passing them, each of them becoming visible just for a second before disappearing back into what they were leaving behind "Just don't come back crying when you find out he's knocked up a Nurse Joy during one of his _internships_."

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it and keeps silent. She resists the urges to hit him again, maybe even harder than before, and tries to concentrate on reaching the Gym without crashing. They don't speak, and the only sound that's heard is the faint music from the radio, the volume turned down almost completely.

The Gym comes into full view and she slows down. A few minutes pass until the car comes to a stop in her parking spot on the garage, just beside her sisters'. The engine dies down as she pulls out the keys. They are immersed in complete silence and near darkness, but neither attempt to exit the car.

"So what if Luke's an idiot?" her voice breaks the long silence, her eyes focus on the steering wheel she had been gripping so tightly before "Not that he is. But why do you care so much? It's not _you_ who's dating him."

She feels his eyes on her, but she keeps her own away from him.

"I thought we were best friends enough for me to care?" he says after a moment.

"I thought we were best friends enough for many things."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She still refuses to meet his eyes, and her hand plays with an unstitched thread on the corner of the wheel. She can feel him looking at her expectantly, but she keeps silent.

"Misty" he says her name, as if reminding her that he was waiting for some sort of explanation "hey" he takes her arm and gives her a small shake. His hand stays there after the attempt to shake an answer out of her. She can feel his fingers pressing against her skin, his gloved palm brushing her.

"It's nothing!" she finally blurts out "Forget about it. Just leave Luke alone… he… he's a nice guy."

She feels his fingers moving slowly away from her skin, until his hand is back on his lap. She turns her head just an inch, expecting to find him shaking his head in exasperation, but instead finds him staring at his own lap, his eyelashes casting shadows on his eyes and cheeks, his lips pressed together.

She feels her throat tighten, wondering why some things turned out exactly the opposite of how she wanted them. Shaking the thought out of her mind, she finally exits the car and closes the door behind her with more force than necessary.

Maybe in the end they were all idiots.

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**Hope you guys liked it!**


	10. Jam

**I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update, but my life has been pretty hectic lately, and I was undergoing what seemed like a writer's block. I also wrote like five different versions of this until one of them actually made me happy. **

**Hope you like it, and its weirdness :)**

**Disclaimer: too bad it isn't mine yet :( **

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**Jam**

He loves jam.

Specially the one his mother makes. There is always a different flavor available on the fridge for him in a neatly arranged jar with a small note that contains a few loving words.

She loves it too, and she knows how good Mrs. Ketchum's jams can be. She never hesitates on opening the fridge and pulling out the delicious jam when she visits him. And they would talk away while spreading the jam over toasts, or crackers, or simply licking spoonfuls of it as they catch up with each other's lives.

Today is no different. The first thing she does after greeting her friend with a long awaited hug is walk to the kitchen while blabbing away about the last amateur trainer that dared to step into the Cerulean City Gym. Her hair is a bit longer, he notices, but just a few inches. Besides that, she's still the same red-headed girl he had befriended so many years before.

"Raspberry!" she squeals while pulling out the jar with the gelled fruit inside "Raspberry's the best one."

He disagrees as he says that raspberry's actually last on his list, while peach and strawberry fight for the first spot. He sits himself on the kitchen table, his mouth already watering as she places the jar on the white surface of the table and sits by his side.

But today she hasn't bothered on opening a pack of crackers, or placing slices of bread on the toaster. She hasn't even bothered on bringing two spoons for them to dip in the jam and then lick.

Today she opens the jar and dips her own index finger inside. The jar is only half-full, but that doesn't seem to bother her; it was still a large jar. She pulls her finger out and places it on her mouth, her lips enclosing around it. She tastes for a moment, considering, and then her finger reappears completely clean and with a satisfied sigh she mutters "still great."

She pushes the jar towards him, offering him to dip his own finger inside. He hesitates for a moment, considering how much his mother would disapprove of such an unhygienic way of eating her jams, but forgetting about it he pulls out his fingerless glove from his right hand and dips his finger inside.

And he realizes that raspberry didn't taste so bad on his finger.

They take turns to dip their fingers on the jam as they talk the afternoon away. He learns that she has gotten three new Goldeens to battle for the Gym, and that Daisy is dating a new mysterious guy and refuses to introduce him to her sisters. Speaking of her sisters, she reminds him of the fact that they leave her in charge of all the battling and paperwork while they only busy themselves with the water shows. She waves her hands around in exasperation as she tells him about the latest all-nighter she pulled thanks to them.

He takes a chance to tell her about the new attack Pikachu has learned, the three Tauros he sold, and about the job that Professor Oak has offered him on his lab, which he doesn't yet know if he should take or not.

And an hour has passed, and the jar is almost empty, except for a small amount remaining on the side. They stare at each other, almost daring one another to steal the last bit of jam. But of course she's quicker, and the jam envelopes her fingertip as she chuckles and he looks at it through slightly narrowed eyes.

He keeps silent; he would sure have a brand new jar of jam on his fridge by tomorrow for sure, while she wouldn't get another taste until her next visit. Raspberry was his least favorite after all.

"Sorry, Ash" she says, and he knows she doesn't mean it at all. Her playful smile doesn't help either.

"It's alright" he says.

She taunts him while waving her jam covered finger in front of his face. She asks him teasingly if he's sure he doesn't want the last bit, and he reassures her that it's alright for her to have it, although he doesn't know up to what extent he really means it.

Food and losing had always been his weaknesses.

But the taunting continues, and she brings the finger up to her lips until they touch the jam, only to pull it away and leaving only a speck of the fruit on her lips, like a badly applied lipstick.

"Are you _sure_?" she asks again, and he rolls his eyes. Her jam covered finger is close to him now, and it gets so close that the gelled fruit touches his lips, just a fraction. He licks them, savoring a trace of the sweet raspberry taste. The act seems to send a spark inside him, and he regrets letting her have what remained of the jam a little bit more with each second that passes.

It's too late; her finger is already inside her mouth, and she licks it clean with a content expression. It isn't until she catches a glimpse of his face that her content expression gets replaced by a frown.

"What?" she asks seriously, and he guesses that something on his features is giving away the current struggle he's having inside him. He tries to dissemble it by meeting her look, but he fails as his eyes are too busy focusing on what remains of the jam, ridiculously applied as a cheap, purple lipstick on the red-head's lips.

"Stop staring" she says worriedly.

And he does.

He always loved jam. Jam on toast, jam on crackers, jam on pancakes, or just jam on a spoon. His favorites had been peach and strawberry, always fighting for the first spot.

But today raspberry becomes his new favorite. And God, does it taste great off her lips.

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**As always, thanks for reading, and hoped you enjoyed!**


	11. Kid

**Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for your reviews! Thank you for being so supportive and positive, you're all seriously great! I'm very, very grateful to all :D**

**It didn't take me _that_ long to update this time, did it?**

**And we have Brock in the house, today! And also, they might be a little younger in this chapter... around their middle-teens, maybe? Feel free to decide... So, here it goes, then...! **

**Disclaimer: Pokémon is not and will never be mine.**

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**Kid**

_"Reuben, I… I…"_

_"Harriet just don't… don't say anything. Just kiss me."_

I heard a dreamy sigh coming from my right and a snort from my left as the suit-clad Fiorello on the screen took his leading lady in his arms and kissed her passionately. I watched attentively as I took mental notes of all the steps Reuben had followed to charm Harriet successfully, hoping they would work on a certain Nurse Joy. Then the camera drew away from their kiss and before we knew it the credits were rolling against a black background.

"For Lugia's sake. I can't believe I just survived through that." Ash said while chucking what remained of the popcorn across the living room, aiming directly at the screen.

"It wasn't that bad" I chimed in, pressing the _stop_ button on the remote control.

"Wasn't that bad?" my young friend asked incredulously "The guy spent the whole movie trying to kiss that Harriet girl. He even lost a battle against her on purpose! What kind of ridiculous idiot would do that to get a girl to kiss him?"

I was about to open my mouth and say that many decent guys would do that, and a few other things too, to get a girl to just _like_ them, when I was interrupted by the red-head on my right who was suddenly on her feet.

"For your information, Ash, the fact that he lost a battle on purpose against her just proves how much he really cares for her" she said matter-of-factly and a little heatedly too, the dreamy demeanor she had held before completely gone.

Misty's statement just made Ash snort louder than before, and I could sense a new argument arising between my two younger friends. I braced myself for what was about to come, or rather leaned back on the couch and relaxed as I entertained myself with their oncoming quarrel. Of course they were a nuisance while traveling or lost in a middle of a forest, but there was no reason to stop them in the middle of a living room. At least not yet.

"Aw, C'mon! The only thing _that_ proved is how pathetic the guy was!"

"Pathetic? Are you insane?"

"I'm not. I just don't get what the big deal about kissing is!" he said shrugging off the matter as if it was the most unimportant thing in the history of the universe "and I don't get why someone would lose a battle on purpose just to touch someone else's lips. It's just touching lips, and tongues, and stuff. It's no big deal..."

For a moment there was silence, and if it wasn't for the fact that I was stunned to hear such a thing coming from someone _older_ that twelve, even if that someone was _Ash_, I would've kicked his butt for insulting something as great as kissing.

"In the whole world, you must be the only person your age that thinks that" she said, almost mirroring my own thoughts, and I could sense her a little taken aback. But her voice became heated once again when she added "just to show how much of a little kid you still are!"

"I am _not_ a little kid!"

"You are too. If you weren't you wouldn't say kissing is just 'touching lips and stuff', and you wouldn't think Reuben is pathetic for losing a silly battle on purpose! You're an idiotic little kid!"

"Oh, yeah?" he narrowed his eyes at her, and his arms folded on his chest.

"Yeah!"

"_Oh, yeah?_"

"_Yeah!_"

"_Al_right, guys" I interrupted, standing up from my perfectly comfortable spot on the couch and separating the two teenagers, who had suddenly brought themselves to stand inches apart from each other; a signal that could only mean it was time to stop them before they ripped their heads off.

"C'mon, Brock, you're not taking _her_ side, are you?" Ash asked while sending the red-haired girl a quick, venomous glance. But before I could even mutter a word, Misty answered on my behalf, and without my permission.

"Of course he is! Unlike _you_, Brock is _not_ a little kid who thinks kissing is no big deal!"

"I am _not_ a little kid!" he repeated, fighting against the hand I had placed on his shoulder.

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"_Are too!_"

"_Are not!"_

"C'mon guys," I interrupted the quite childish argument with my always serene voice of reason, keeping my hands firm at their shoulders "aren't you a bit old to fight like this? Do you realize _what_ you're fighting over?"

"Alright, you're not a little kid?" my serene voice of reason went by unnoticed and was chosen to be ignored when Misty directed her words at Ash, just as if I hadn't said anything at all "then _prove_ it! Prove that, for once, you can act your age!"

At least, they had both relaxed a bit under my grip, and I it wasn't too hard anymore to restrain them from going at each other.

"I don't need to prove anything to you!"

"That's because you _can't_" she sneered.

"Can too"

"Can not"

"Can too!"

"Not!"

"Can too, and you'll see!" suddenly, Ash slapped the hand I had placed on his shoulders and with two strides closed the gap I had created between him and the red-head. I was too shocked to pull him back again because I knew that he wasn't exactly about to rip her head off, but to do something completely different. Misty's face lost all its hostility as complete surprise took over it, and her blue eyes widened as plates as Ash's face got closer and closer to hers.

Just when there were only a few inches left between them, he stopped abruptly, as if an invisible wall had just protruded out of nowhere to stand in his way. I took the moment to fully watch him; his fists were tight at his sides, his eyes closed and scrunched up, his lips pressed together.

Misty just stood rooted on the spot, my hand still on her shoulder; I could barely sense her twitch under my grip. Her shocked face stared at the boy who was so close to her, as if she wouldn't have imagined in a million years that he would dare to get so close. That happened to be my case too, as my eyes shifted from the raven haired trainer to my fellow Gym Leader and back, not really taking in what was happening.

The silence then was almost deafening. For a whole second nobody uttered a single noise, and it almost felt like an hour on which the three of us stood in such an awkward position.

And then Ash opened his eyes and slowly backed away, and we both stared at him through our shocked expressions. I could see his cheeks getting as red as Pikachu's, and then the color took over his entire face and collarbone.

"Wasn't it no big deal?" I heard Misty say in a low voice on which the bitterness was still prominent. I turned around to find her face just as red as Ash's but being quite expressionless and unnatural. The coldness made me drop my hand from her, and it sure must have affected Ash in some way when in the same low, bitter voice she added "See? You're still a little kid."

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**There you go! Hope you enjoyed :D**


	12. Late

**Hello, people! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! You truly make my days, specially these days when school is about to drive me insane. Thank you all so very much, I really appreciate it.**

**Here goes another chapter. Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like the owner of Pokémon to you? Really?**

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Late

The car comes to a stop in front of a drenched-to-the-bone red-head standing on the edge of the sidewalk. Her equally wet luggage stands by her side, her hand tightened around the handle as her knuckles turn white.

He steps out of the car and opens the Pikachu umbrella that always lies under the driver's seat; the yellow fabric and pointed yellow ears would sure call much attention if the Station wasn't so deserted. Walking over to the red-head, he tries to ignore her noticeable clenched jaw and glaring blue eyes as he puts the umbrella over her soaked figure in hopes of keeping her from getting any wetter –if that was possible –and mumbles a few apologizing words.

But she slaps his hand away, and the umbrella ends up on the concrete, smiling up at them as if nothing is happening. Their bodies are exposed to the pouring rain, and he can feel the thick raindrops hit every inch of his body. There goes his new jacket, completely ruined in a matter of five seconds. But it doesn't really matter as he feels her blue eyes burning holes into his face. He doesn't even bother to pick the umbrella back up.

He opens his lips as he tries to apologize again, anything to break her cold silence. But he only gets water inside his mouth and no words come out. His lips snap shut again, and he can see her fingers clenching and unclenching around the bag's handle, her blue eyes glaring at him under her creased forehead, drops of water running along her cold face, which is surrounded by soaked strands of red hair that fall out of her ponytail.

He opens his mouth again, giving it another try.

"I –"

"I understand I'm everything but one of your top priorities" she snaps, interrupting his oncoming apology. Her voice is high; he can hear it clearly over the heavy raindrops against the pavement, the buildings, and everything that surrounded them.

"Misty, I –"

"But if you'd told me that picking me up on time was going to be such a big trouble for you, then I would've called a cab instead!" her voice almost breaks at the end, and she looks away for the first time since he got off the car to pick up her luggage.

"It's no trouble, Misty!" he exclaims as he helps her put the heavy bag on the car's trunk. They both grunt as they push it inside, until it finally lands on the trunk's carpet with a heavy thud "I'm really, really sorry, I –"

"Look, its okay, you forgot!" she says without giving him a second glance. She walks over to the shotgun seat, her voice everything but showing she was 'okay'. Her hand rests on the door's handle and she looks at him over the car's low ceiling "I don't expect you to remember every single thing about me. I just wished you told me, that's all."

She enters the car, and he follows. They both sit drenched inside, the sound of the heavy rain muffled. There isn't a single spot left dry on them, and there they go; the new leather seats he had just gotten three days before. But it doesn't really matter as he leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, listening to her heavy panting and shuffling, as she probably wrings her hair and clothes.

"I'm sorry" he says lowly, without opening his eyes; maybe that way it would be easier to talk. It was always easier to talk without having to face her directly "I'm sorry I was late. And I'm sorry I've made you think you aren't important to me. I hope it's not too late to say that you are."

He hears her become still on the shotgun seat. The heavy raindrops hit the car's ceiling with thuds that seem like they will puncture holes on it. The street is empty, and there goes the Pikachu umbrella he had owned since his sixth birthday, the one he had left lying on the street and wasn't planning on retrieving.

But it doesn't really matter because after what seemed like an eternal and uneventful silence, he feels her hand on his shoulder as in a low voice she says "Just… don't do it again… Don't be late again."

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**Thanks for reading :)**


	13. Miss

**I know, I know. Shame on me! It's taken me _way_ too long to update this. But the good news is: I'm not dead! **

**I've just been the busiest I've ever been in my entire life. God, school is driving me insane! I'm happy I've finally found some time to update this. I'll try to post the next one ASAP, okay? Please don't hate me :( **

**Thank you so much for all of your amazing reviews! You're seriously the greatest, guys!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Miss**

"C'mon, Pikachu" her voice pleaded as she pushed the plate towards the electric rodent. The little creature barely sniffed the food on it before turning his snout away, just like he had done the last few days "Brock made this especially for you. He knows it is your favorite."

"Pi" he murmured before burying his evidently saddened face behind his yellow paws. He was lying on top of the kitchen counter, his ears falling on the sides of his head, his tail hanging from the edge of the table, his yellow fur standing out against the cold, dark granite.

She lowered her head until her chin rested on her folded arms, her face on the same level with the pokémon's hidden one. After staring at him for a few seconds, she extended one of her arms across the counter, reaching for the creature, her fingers rubbing his yellow fur, just between his miserably dropped ears. She rested her cheek to the side, her eyes never leaving him.

"Would you like some ketchup instead?" she asked softly, fingers against soft fur. She felt him shake his head under her touch, making her sigh and fold her arm back below her chin.

_It's been a month._

XX

"He's miserable, Brock" she spoke into the screen, the receiver between her shoulder and ear as her fingers twirled the cord around them "I don't know what to do anymore. He won't eat. He won't train. He doesn't want to hang around the other pokémon either."

"You have to give him time" she heard her friend say from the other end of the line. She saw his face on the screen and realized dark circles had formed around his eyes, wondering if he had already noticed the ones that now encircled her own, too visible against her pale skin "just imagine how hard this must be for him."

"I… I know…" she took the receiver in her hand and looked away from the screen, down to her free hand; her nails were undone, but she had never cared less in her entire life "I'm just worried. I think he's not eating at all… I …" she trailed off, and was grateful when Brock filled in her silence.

"Give him time, Misty. He must need some space now…"

"What if I can't do this?"

"He was left with _you_" she heard him say "not me. Not even Delia. _You_. You can do it. I know you can. And he knew too, okay?"

She nodded, still looking down to her free hand.

"I don't want him to get hurt" her voice was small, minimal. She rested her forehead against her free hand, her face hopefully hidden from Pewter's Gym Leader "I don't want something to happen to him too… he wouldn't want that. Ash wouldn't want that…"

"Misty" he called her, but she kept still. "Misty" he insisted, and she was forced to face him again, giving him a full view of her watering eyes. She saw him smile slightly, just the corners of his lips slightly turning upward, but the mere sight of it still sent a comforting sensation through her "nothing will happen to him. He'll be fine. Pikachu will be fine… and you'll be fine too. He'd want that."

She nodded, and forced her lips to smile back, wiping the unshed tears from her eyes; she couldn't let them fall. Not now.

XX

The living room was dark, but she could still see his small silhouette thanks to the light from the lamp post outside, drifting through the thin curtains. He was lying on the couch, almost unmoving if it wasn't for the soft heaving of his back as he breathed.

She walked up to him, each step muffled against the carpet with her sock-clad feet. She knew he had acknowledged her presence when one of his dropped ears slightly twitched. Without saying anything she took the pokémon in her arms and lay on the couch herself, her legs hanging from the edge and Pikachu repositioned on top of her stomach.

More silence followed as they both lay in the middle of the living room, submerged in near-darkness. She cuddled the electric rodent closer to her neck, feeling his soft fur against her skin and rubbing his back, hoping to somehow comfort him, and God knew how much she wanted to comfort him.

"I can't imagine how you must be feeling" she said softly, her eyes stuck on the dark shadows forming on the ceiling, all with strange shapes. She felt him become even more still than before under her touch, and that's when she knew he wasn't asleep and was in fact listening to her "I really can't"

She took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm trying to make it better… I swear I am. But it's hard you know?" she made a huge effort not to let her voice break "It's hard because… It's hard because I miss him too. I miss him terribly."

Her voice broke at the last syllable, and with that she felt a tear run from her eye to the side of her face, getting lost into her hair. Pikachu had looked up, and with her sight accustomed to the darkness she could make out his small, beaded eyes staring back at her, more focused than how they'd been since the day the small pokémon was surprisingly handed to her own care.

"We'll be fine, alright? I promise" she said, holding Pikachu in an embrace she felt him return with a nuzzle on the side of her face "He'd want that."

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**I promise he'll be alive in the next chapter, okay? :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	14. No

**Hello, everyone! I'm sorry I haven't answered your reviews, but I've been too busy. I'm starting finals tomorrow, so I'm extra-busy. I somehow managed to get this done and uploaded right now, just because I don't feel like studying Math any longer :P I want you to know that even when I don't answer them, I really really appreciate your reviews. I couldn't be more grateful, seriously! I want to thank all of you for your encouragement :D THANK YOU, GUYS! You make my days!**

**So here goes another chapter, and this didn't take me that long! This one goes to all of you who enjoy this. Ash is alive in this one! But the last one was written because I think that Pikachu IS a part of AAML, you know? So the relationship between him and Misty is important. I wanted to give it a shot :)**

**Disclaimer: I wish. **

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**No**

"How _dare_ you!" her voice screeched. Red strands of hair fell out of the fancy French twist she had gotten just a few hours before "How dare you show up _drunk_ here!"

She had been careful to close the entrance door behind her, so the people inside wouldn't notice the commotion between the two that was taking place on the front porch, with only the night sky and a few hidden nocturnal pokémon as witnesses.

"You know how much I hate it when people get drunk. _Especially_ you!" she punched his forearm at the accentuated word, making the raven-haired stumble.

"I'm not drunk!" his slurred words proved him wrong, causing her to groan and throw a fit of more punches aimed at his chest, ruining her French twist only further. She felt his hands trying to restrain her from hitting him, which she resisted with her eyes shut close until she realized that even drunk he was much stronger than her.

"How could you do this?" she pulled a step away from him, but her right elbow remained in his hand's grip "How could you show up drunk at my engagement party! Do you know how embarrassing that was? Do you realize how _horrible_ you just made me feel?! I barely know half the people in there! You ruined everything, Ash! I never would've expected it from –"

But her rambling was cut off when he suddenly pulled her by the elbow he had still been gripping and pushed his lips fiercely on her own. They were rough and strong, but for a few seconds she was tempted to give in to them, until she remembered the additional weight that she now carried on her left hand finger and the connotations that it actually represented.

"_No!_" she forced his mouth away from hers, pushing him by the chest. A tingle was left lingering on her lips, reminding her of what her supposed friend had just done, and she raised her fingers to it, as if somehow she would be able to feel it with them too.

"_No_, Ash" she repeated, looking at him straight in his dazed eyes.

"No? _No_?" he asked with a bitter chuckle "Is that all you have to say to me now, Misty? _No_?"

"You can't do this, okay? Not now!" her voice was considerably lower compared to the high-pitched screeches she had emitted when they first exited the house, but it remained sharp.

"No, no_, no._ You should've said no to _him_," he gestured with his heavy arm towards the house, where the people were enjoying the party oblivious to the argument going on just outside. The slow music and cheerful chattering drifted through the windows, reaching faintly to their own ears. For a moment they both stared at the door silently, as if they could stare at the events on the other side of it. Misty pressed her lips together and Ash added in a smaller voice "not me."

Her eyes stuck to the creaks of the wooden door, and she felt him walk away from her, down the steps and the pathway that led to the street. She turned around to find him walking slowly, awkwardly, almost reaching the picket fence that surrounded the whole front yard.

"Where are you going?" she shouted, but he barely shrugged as he reached the fence.

"I don't know" he said calmly, attempting to open the fence door but failing at doing so "somewhere, I guess."

She stared at him struggle to open it, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. His drunken state wouldn't allow him to fulfill a task that was usually quite easy, and so, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't leave the house just yet, she took a deep breath of cold air before speaking.

"You know what?" she shouted from the topmost step "I could've said no to him. I could've said no to him and none of this would be happening. But you know why I didn't?" she made a small pause, even though she knew she wouldn't get any answers from him. He had stopped struggling with the fence, and he now stood as still as the alcohol allowed him, his hands supporting him on the white wooden boards. She knew he was listening "Because I was tired! I was tired of waiting for you to stop being such a thickheaded idiot! And I can't believe you come with all of this crap now! _Now_, Ash, on my engagement party!"

He turned around on his heels and faced her from across the front yard, leaning back on the fence he hadn't been able to open yet. She waited for him to give her some sort of response, anything, but he only stared back at her through slightly narrowed eyes, his lips pressed together, the ones that had been pushed into her own just a few moments before. She could still feel them tingling.

"You had no right to do this, okay? You had years and years to do it and you didn't!" she continued shouting, pointing an accusing finger at him while her eyes started to sting "I was _always_ there and you never plucked up enough courage to do a damned thing about it! I'm sorry it took you so long to do something, and I'm even _sorrier_ it had to take alcohol and the fact that I'm actually marrying someone else. But it's too late! You can't do this, I won't take it!" she stomped her stiletto on the floor just like a small child, the needle-like heel almost puncturing the wooden plank below her with a cracking sound.

His expression had barely changed since he had turned to face her again and she had started shouting; his eyes had only widened slightly, and his breathing seemed a bit heavier. The lack of response would've infuriated her in any other situation, but the anger seemed to drown out of her as it was replaced by something that felt almost, most possibly, like sorrow. The muscles all over her body loosened with it, and a sigh escaped her.

"You should leave" she said, and if the night hadn't been so quiet she was sure no one would've heard her. It wasn't sharp, or angry. It was muttered almost like an advice, or as the last favor he could do to her.

And he remained unresponsive, to which she only reacted by turning her back to him slowly and walking over to the entrance door, the one that would lead her back to the party, the people, the chatter and the good mood.

"Is that what you want?" hearing his voice at all startled her, making her body freeze on the spot, her hand already over the doorknob. "Do you want me to leave? Because if I leave, Misty, I'm not coming back. I'll be out of your life, and you'll be free to live with _him_, with no one to bother you, and it'll be only you and him and you'll barely know of me again." His words were unnaturally slurred, but they pierced her as sharply as if they had been alcohol-free, because she knew he meant them.

She looked down and turned back around, to find him standing straighter, not leaning on the closed fence anymore. She could make out his brown eyes staring at her even from the distance and under the dim lighting, his face always so familiar to her. In some way or another, she had seen that face through most of her life, always. In person, or through the vidphones. All the time.

"So, is _that_ what you want?" he asked again after a few seconds of silence, with only the slow music drifting from inside "Is it?"

She shook her head, and what remained of the French twist was completely ruined at last.

"No"

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**Thanks for reading. Hope you liked!**


	15. Okay

**Quick updates! Quick updates! I'm in the middle of my finals week... but inspiration struck! So what can I do? **

**This one is definitely not a drabble, and more of a one-shot. It is hopefully happier than my latest chapters too, because I just realized I had turned pretty depressing lately when writing! So I decided to do something more lighthearted for once. **

**So enjoy! **

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**Okay**

He had tried to ignore it, but the person on the other side of the door, whoever that was, proved to be insistent. And very. The door had been knocked insistently for the past three minutes, and the lapses of time between each knock had shortened until they had become nonexistent. The doorknob rattled with each attempt at being opened, as if the lock would eventually click open if the person kept doing that.

"Open up!" a girl's voice called angrily from the other side, which was the ultimate last straw that got on his nerves. Standing up from his spot beside the toilet, he finally let the door open, only letting his face and part of his body visible between it and the doorframe, but enough to put a stop to the nerve-wracking knocking.

"He_llo?_ This is, like, the girl's bathroom!" the girl outside said annoyingly in a ditzy manner that would've put any of Misty's sisters to shame. She twirled a strand of brown hair around her index finger, and the clear eyes behind the heavy make-up eased on their glare as she seemed to take in his appearance "Although… I wouldn't really mind."

She leaned against the doorframe as she stared at him through her probably fake eye-lashes, her low-cut cleavage almost shoved into his face. The seductive demeanor was enough to make him freak, to which he responded only by closing the door almost completely, leaving space just for his face to peek out.

"Right. Um…" he said nervously, shifting his eyes between the unknown girl that was currently hitting on him, and his previous –and more important –matter inside the bathroom, trying to avoid the cleavage at all costs "my friend is… kinda vomiting her brains out in here. Would you mind _that_?"

"What?" clearly taken aback, the girl stood instantly straighter as her face fell into a disgusted expression "_Ew_!"

"Thought so" he said flatly, and without waiting for any kind of response he shut the door closed in her face. He made sure the lock was back on before turning to the red head that was currently sitting on the floor, her head bent over the toilet "You alright there?"

He crouched beside her, placing a hand on her back. She looked up dazedly; her hair stuck out in more places than usual, and her pale face held an unnatural green shade that made his eyebrows pull together worriedly. She closed her eyes and nodded, letting her arms detach from the porcelain bowl she had been hugging since they had entered the bathroom and leaning back against the wall.

"C'mon. I'll take you back to the Gym" he said as he picked up her shoes, which she had stopped wearing during the course of the hour they had spent in the small guest bathroom. He sat across from her sprawled figure and took her bare foot in his hands, attempting to place a shoe on.

"No. I'm fine" she said, pulling it away from his hands and thus remaining bare. He pulled it back, but she jerked her leg away from him again "I'm okay!"

"No, you're not okay" he said taking her foot more fiercely and finally managing to put the shoe on, not caring to fix the straps and taking her other foot in his hands "You look terrible."

And she did. Her hair, which had been arranged in a fashionable ponytail, now stuck out in all the wrong places. Her make-up was definitely ruined, he noted, thanks to the dark shadows that now encircled her teal eyes. Not to mention the fact that she had just been throwing up for almost an hour straight.

She leaned her head back against the wall and stopped struggling against his grip. He could see her glancing at him through her half-closed eyelids, her whole body in an awkward position, and he tried to ignore the fact that the hemline of her green dress had risen almost to her upper thighs, leaving her long legs bare. His eyes averted from them, focusing on fixing the shoe on her foot as quickly as possible.

XX

Although the walk back to the Gym was not easy, it was nothing compared to their way outside the crowded house. He had tried to leave as unnoticed as possible, but doing so with his best friend clinging from his neck while barely being able to stand sure attracted a few, if not _way_ too many questioning looks from the party-goers. It didn't help when a drunken Brock literally blocked their way outside, begging them to stay, and when Misty remembered she had left her purse by the sink when they had finally managed to get to the front yard.

Purse safely retrieved, they were now on their way to the Gym. The hardest part was hopefully over, but helping a stumbling Misty get back home just made him wish he had brought his car. Her shoes were off again, as their high heels just made the whole process harder. They now hung from one of his hands while his other arm was draped around her waist, making their way down the thankfully empty street under the clear, night sky.

"You didn't have to do this" she said, hardly vocalizing "I was okay."

"Believe me, you were everything but okay" he replied, his grip on her tightening as she somehow seemed to become heavier "I probably saved you from doing Mew-knows-what with that Derek guy, and you threw up a week worth of meals afterwards. Who made you drink so much, anyway?"

"For your information, Ashy-boy, I was _not_ about to do Mew-knows-what with Derek. We were just _talking_, alright?" her words were drawled, but he was luckily able to still understand her "and secondly, nobody _makes_ me drink. I drink what I want, I can handle myself well."

"Clearly" before she was able to retort on his heavy sarcasm, he added "It was that Derek guy, was he?"

"_No_."

The Cerulean City Gym finally came into view, the Dewgong welcoming them from the far distance. He silently wished he could just accelerate his pace to the building and get there as soon as possible, but the current state of the red head by his side wouldn't allow him to walk any faster than how they had up until then. Again, why didn't he bring his car? It would've made everything much easier.

"I saw you at the bar with him! Besides, you never drink like this" he continued, and a mild pang of anger suddenly started bubbling inside him "I know you, you know. It was him. He was getting you drunk, right? He was trying to take advan–"

"Ash!" she exclaimed, cutting him off, and for the first time since they had left the house after retrieving her purse, she let go of him completely. He looked back at her as they now stood on the middle of the deserted street, the Gym looming behind them between its bright lights "It wasn't like that, _alright_? Besides, I'm a big girl, I know how to take care of myself! I didn't… I … how dare you think… I-I wouldn't have let him" she finished simply. She turned away from him and started walking awkwardly on her way home.

For a moment he just stared at her as she walked away, seeming to have completely forgotten about her shoes and purse, which still hung from his hand. Somewhere on their way, the hair band holding her ponytail together had been lost, letting her flaming, red hair loose just around her shoulders.

"I'm pretty sure," he called after her "that if I hadn't pulled you out of there you would've –"

"Alright, already!" she cut him off again angrily, turning back to him with her hands forming fists at her sides, as tight as the alcohol would let her "Why does it matter, anyway! You didn't need to do that, I was _okay_. You can go back to the party, or go home, or go to Pallet or something. I'll get myself home. I'm fine. I'm okay!"

And once again she turned away, back on the direction of the Gym. For another moment he just stared at her go, until she stumbled and almost tripped.

"For the hundredth time, Misty" he said catching up with his unstable-for-the-moment best friend and wrapping an arm around her waist while she hung her own around his neck without question or hesitation "you're _not_ okay."

XX

By the time they got to the Gym and finally reached her bedroom, Misty had caught with only a semi-conscious state that was barely enough to let her drop limply on her bed, the covers, pillows, and her own position completely askew.

As her body fell with a thump, the sound of the mattresses' springs almost reaching his ears, the only thing he could do was sigh with great relief. After leaving the shoes and the purse by the foot of the bed, he softly threw a blanket he had pulled from a nearby couch over the red head's resting body, and then let his own body fall by her side, sitting himself on the edge of her bed and running his hands up his face and deep into the roots of his black hair.

It wasn't _that_ late, but going back to the party was something that would definitely not happen. The other choice left was going back home. _Walking_ back home. It didn't sound inviting at all, especially with the soft pillows and blankets that seemed to call to him from underneath him.

"Ash."

Her voice startled him. He looked down at her to find her eyes half-closed and unfocused, instead of finding her deeply asleep, as he would've expected she would be by then. She was lying face-down, her head turned to the side and close to his knee, her fingers curled around the fabric beneath her, the blanket covered her up to her mid-back. He could see the outline of her body thanks to the dim light from the bathroom nearby.

"Yeah?" he said, placing a hand on the small of her back "I thought you were already asleep."

She shook her head, making her red hair bangs fall more on her face than before. He fixed them quickly before his hand returned to her back with a soft pat.

"I _was_ okay, you know" she muttered into the blankets, her voice almost muffled.

"You weren't" he answered simply. His hand traveled up her back until reaching the tips of her unruly hair, and then back down the hem of the blanket, thrown over her mid-back. Silence followed, and he saw her close her eyes under her touch, his hand toying with her hair, running along her back and neck, and picking softly on her wild bangs that stuck out in every direction now.

"Why did you do it?" her voice was barely audible.

"Well… because you're my best friend" he answered shrugging, even though she couldn't see him and she was probably not really listening anymore "I'm obliged to do it, you know? Besides, I _did_ want you to be okay. And I knew you weren't, so… yeah."

He fell silent. There was no response from her. Instead he felt her back heaving deeply under his hand, which could only mean that she had finally succumbed to slumber. The worrying green shade was gone from her face, and even though the dark circles of make-up remained, she seemed to be finally resting peacefully. The mere sight made him yawn.

"But I guess you're okay now" he finished, and standing up he let himself fall on the nearby couch.

The walk home would have to wait for the morning.

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**Last chapter on reverse? Maybe? Just in another kind of situation? You probably think I'm an alcoholic or something by now. Just so you know, I'm not. :P**

**Haha, thanks for reading! :D**


	16. Protection

**Hello guys! Sorry for the delay, but I've had a bit of a writer's block lately. I just finished my finals AT LAST! And I'm happy to say that I give my graduate exams on January and I'll be officially ready to go to college, woot!**

**This took me a while to come up with/write/publish, but I hope you still enjoy it. Beware some more fluff than what's usual on me. I haven't checked it very well, but I want to leave this posted before I go, so I'll probably check it again later. **

**So, ever had a great day on the beach, but just can't sleep at night because of the unbearable pain of a major sunburn? Ah, being a kid... or a stubborn teenager. Anyways, enjoy! :D**

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**Protection**

"Would you _stop_?" she hisses into the dark room, her words directed at the boy that should be sleeping on the top bunk bed, right above hers, but instead hasn't stop shifting and moving for the past hour.

The window is open, letting the marine breeze and the tranquilizing sound of the waves enter the bedroom. The moonlight glares through the thin curtains, preventing the room from being submerged in complete darkness. It would be a quite relaxing scenario if it wasn't for the entire bunker creaking and shaking every time a certain black-haired trainer tosses and turns around his bed, pulling her out of her almost somnolence and back to complete consciousness.

She lies rigidly on the lower bunk, her eyes glaring at the bottom of the upper bed, as if somehow they would burn holes through it and get the boy to _just –stop –moving._ But of course her request is answered by yet another shift, this time making the bed cover fall to the floor with a vague thud, and the wood squeaks annoyingly once more.

"_Stop it!_" she hisses again. Unlike him, she's a considerate person and keeps her voice low –or as low as possible, given her rising temper –so Brock, who sleeps peacefully on the single bed across the room, doesn't wake up.

"I can't sleep" he whispers from above.

"Well, I can't sleep either thanks to _you_" she answers bitterly, her hands curling around the sheets "so just stop moving, alright?"

Complete silence follows, something she takes as an agreement. With a small sigh of contempt she turns to the side and pulls the aquamarine sheet over her shoulder, already closing her eyes, before she's forced to turn rigid and open them once again.

_Squeak._

She groans and pulls the covers to the side, sliding out of the bed. This was the last straw. Her hands grip the bunk ladder and she climbs it with her bare feet until her face is on the same level with her friend's. She's surprised to find him wearing a both worried and apologetic expression, as if he somehow knows she's very close to setting Gyarados on him.

"Sorry" he says, the side of his face against the pillow.

"Seriously, what's up with you" she whispers at him "you usually sleep like a sedated snorlax."

"It's just that…" he hesitates, shifting once again uncomfortably and making the bunk bed shake slightly "it's just that it _burns._"

"What burns?" she frowns.

"… my skin."

She narrows her eyes at him. She could say 'I told you so', or give him a speech about the importance of sun protection, but instead she hops back down to the floor and walking towards the bathroom she calls after him a simple command: "Come."

XX

"Stop wincing, I haven't even touched you yet."

She's currently sitting on the bathroom counter just by the sink, her legs dangling off the edge and a plastic bottle with a green, jelly-like content gripped in one hand. This same green content has already been poured on the palm of her other hand, and the young trainer just wants to get as far away from it as the size of the hotel's bathroom permits him.

"I don't want you to put that _green goo_ on me!"

"It's not green goo," she rolls her clear eyes at him "it's _aloe vera_. And it'll make you feel a whole lot better."

"But it looks disgusting!" he says, his eyes darting to the green contents of her left hand.

"Not as disgusting as how you'll look once you start peeling if you don't put this thing on." she says, gesturing towards the green lotion "Besides, this is what you get for not listening to me. I told you to put some sun blocker on but _no_, you _just had_ to go chasing that krabby around the beach all day, had you?"

His jaw clenches and his brown eyes look away, arms folded. She knows she's right, and he knows it too, so it is with great satisfaction that she grins when he seems to surrender by dropping his arms and walking back towards her unwillingly.

She folds her legs as he approaches, giving him enough space on the counter to lean against while he gives his back to her. The lights are not that bright, but she can still se how badly burnt his skin actually is; his usually tanned color turns painfully reddish around his shoulders and shoulder blades. She also notices, for the first time, scattered freckles around them –too much sun exposure, she guesses –but doesn't notice her lotion-free hand setting the bottle on the side and reaching out to touch them until he violently winces and exclaims "Ow!"

"Sorry" she replies instantly, averting her eyes from the newly found freckles and turning them to her hands, not wanting to know the reasons for suddenly doing that. She spreads the green lotion on them and looks back at her friend teasingly saying "You'll love the green goo. You'll see."

She can almost see him roll his brown eyes, but without further ado she places her hands on his shoulders softly, one on each side, and in spite of the cool lotion she can still feel his skin unusually warm against her palms. She spreads it gingerly all over the sunburned area, her fingers running along the scattered freckles and reddish skin.

"It wasn't that bad," she says as she turns back to pour more lotion on her palm "right?"

"It feels as if you're spreading a ditto on my back" he says once her hands are back on his shoulders and a small giggle escapes her lips. In spite of his comment, she can feel him relax under her touch, and the simple thought pleases her in a strange way. His arms are no longer folded, and his hands are instead supporting him on the edge of the counter. She spreads the last on the poured lotion around his shoulders, and he leans his head back as her fingers reach just below his nape.

She can feel his hair almost tickling her face. She can see his closed eyes, his lips slightly parted as he breaths in. And meanwhile, her hands are frozen on him, the nice smell of the lotion reaching her nostrils, and she feels the urges to inch towards him, maybe just a bit more…

"_O_kay, back's done!" she says a little too loudly, pulled out of her daze. Her hands are on the plastic bottle again, and she can feel embarrassing heat creeping up her cheeks. If he notices the blush, she can blame it on the sun. The thought is reassuring.

But what isn't is looking back up and finding his face staring right back at her. She's a strong girl, so taking in a deep but shaky breath she asks "Face's next?"

He nods and closes his eyes. His nose and cheeks are just as red as his back and shoulders had been, and she thanks Mew when she notices no more scattered freckles to reach up to. With her index and middle fingers she scoops a little of the green gel and carefully spreads it along his nose and cheeks, feeling his warm skin under her fingertips. She sees his lips turn slightly upward, and can't help but grinning a little to herself.

"Alright" her voice is low and seems to break through the moment as his eyes flick open and find hers "It should be enough to let you sleep."

Her fingers drop from his face, and her hand reaches for his t-shirt lying just by her side. He nods and looks down at her hand, as outstretched as it can be between their short distance, the black t-shirt he uses to sleep crumpled between her pale fingers.

"Thanks" he mutters, grabbing the t-shirt. He can feel her fingers through the fabric, and neither let go, both looking down, heads grazing each other.

"No problem" she says, her voice lower than necessary "just do as I say and use protection next time."

She looks up and finds him nodding, his eyes still down on their hands holding onto the black fabric, his eyelashes against his sunburned cheeks.

"The sun blocker's on my bag" she adds "and if it still burns you can just get the aloe from–"

But she can't say where he can get the aloe from, because his lips have covered hers, and they're warm and slightly rough, but still nice. She feels the heat of his skin against her, and letting go of the t-shirt her hand goes to the back of his neck; it feels a little sticky because of the lotion, but it doesn't matter. Shivering pleasantly, she thanks for once in her life Ash not doing as she says. Too bad he _would_ have to use sun protection next time.

But well, there's always sun blocker.

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**Ha-ha XD hope you liked! And remember kids: sun protection is important! (It really is!)**


	17. Questions

**Hello! Sorry it took me so long to update, but the holidays are just crazy. Amazing. But crazy. I hope you all had a great time over the holidays, and of course I wish all of you the best in this new year :) I didn't have the time to answer reviews, but I'm sincerely thankful and I really appreciate all your support! Thanks! :D**

**So, this chapter is actually kind of different. I seriously don't know where it came from. It's a tad insane compared to my usual works, I think. It bumped the rating up (just to be safe), and I seriously think it is quite weird. But anywho, I hope you're able to somehow enjoy it or make something of it!**

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**Questions**

There were never any questions. Not even at the beginning. It just happened, and kept happening, and then it was just pretending it never did. So if there had been, in fact, any questions, then neither dared to actually ask them. And of course, it kept happening.

It started after a display of momentary emotional instability from her part. Freddy, the so called 'perfect one' who she had finally managed to settle down with, had decided that it wasn't working anymore and without further ado had picked his already packed stuff and left. He hadn't even given her the chance of throwing his belongings out the window as she would've wished after feeling so betrayed and shattered inside, because he had been _planning_ this and had packed his things beforehand. That granted him a perfect runaway after his little 'we need to talk' speech. And so he was out the door.

He had left an old issue of Pokémon Geographic behind. A precious item of his beloved Pokémon Geographic collection; the one with the first and only picture of Lugia on the cover. She had seen that bird enough before. So after guiltlessly feasting on tearing apart each and every page of the magazine and flinging them out the window in tiny, colorful pieces just as Freddy waited for a cab by the sidewalk, she called Ash and vented her sorrows to him.

If the incident hadn't been enough to bring her to tears, then finding Freddy shoving his tongue down his new blonde-haired catch's throat a week later was. The scene just made a strong desire to leave the place arise inside her, and she voiced it on her friend's ear as soon as they sat on the only free stools in the whole crowded bar and the waitress who had shown them there was out of sight. He seemed confused at the suddenness of her request at first, but after catching a glimpse of the display of excessive affection himself, he agreed and they both left the place at once.

Going somewhere else was not a good idea since she seemed to be having a hard time not letting herself cry. She refused to go to her apartment, as it would only remind her of the jerk she used to call 'steady boyfriend' and would probably try to smash everything in a fit of rage. So with a scowl that only reflected half of his frustration at his inability to cheer his best friend up, and instead making matters maybe worse, he drove to the Cerulean City Gym, whose twenty-four/seven inhabitants had been only the pokémon for months now.

And it was there; in the living room upstairs with its unnatural stillness and the look of a place that hadn't been inhabited for a while, where his friend's old self used to live and move since the beginning before abandoning the place in favor of moving just a few blocks away with dear Freddy. A living quarter jointed to the Gym Leader's workplace, the lack of use it had given lately evident in the very walls. Her old home. It was there that the questions first started arising, from her part, from his part, but always seemed to die in their throats, or forgotten, or ignored.

It was there that, as he apologized for worsening her mood by taking her to that bar, she had made clear there was no need to apologize for something that wasn't even his fault to begin with. If it was anyone's fault, then it was Freddy and his astonishing quick recovery from a long, serious relationship that had to be blamed.

It was there that she suggested going to a pizza joint next time. Surely, the idiotic jerk wouldn't be there given his despise of pizza and any fast food for the matter. And God knew how much she missed stuffing herself with junk food, high in calories and high in fat. Why did it matter when you had your best friend to chat with all the while?

And it was also there that as he turned to leave, he bent a little forward towards her –for he had managed to become a slightly bit taller than her through the years –to give her a friendly goodbye kiss on the cheek, as it was usual with them at that point, but mistakenly managed to catch her lips instead. If it was because of her or him, they would probably never know because neither asked, but the kiss went beyond peck and smooch and innocent, and he felt her become more fierce and desperate against him, and Mew knows how he managed to break apart. _You're hurt. You want to get back at him. You want to feel better. You're not thinking straight…_

And he was halfway down the exit of the Gym when her face flashed back at him bearing a hurt expression –the one that had taken hold of her as he turned to leave –different from the one she had worn at the bar, different from the on he had seen through the videophone the day Freddy decided to leave. It was just different in a terrible way, and he found himself turning back around and retracing his steps. _Why am I doing this?_

_What are we doing? What does this mean? What will happen to us? What will people think? _

But the questions disappeared in both of their minds as they got replaced by what seemed like an intoxicating fog, and the only things that escaped their lips were whispers and each other's names and moans but never, ever, a question.

The next morning found them each on opposite edges of the bed, as the mornings that followed would keep finding them. He woke up on an empty bed with the sheets and covers askew; as he took in the surroundings of the room he very well knew but never thought he'd find himself in, the fact of what had exactly happened the night before downed on him, and with a pang he collected his clothes and went to search for her. Confusion invaded him and he went down to the Gym and there was so much he wanted to ask and he didn't even know if he should.

He found her just as she finished with an early, defeated trainer, already in her usual shorts and top, her red hair up in a ponytail. He couldn't help remembering his face buried in it as it hung loose for once and the contrast against the white sheets had been overwhelming. She welcomed him with an unusual, awkward smile which he returned in the same manner, but soon after she started babbling away about having to bring Nurse Joy to check on Gyarados, and this showed him that there would be no talking about it, and no asking, and no questions.

It would've been fine if it had stop at that. But it didn't. The living quarter of the Cerulean City Gym became a sanctuary where they would meet this night and the other, where they would spend intimate minutes or hours, depending on the day, indulging on something so ephemeral that the inevitable end of it would make them end up sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. No words exchanged until the next day, no questions, no nothing. It was like a rule they had agreed to wordlessly.

It was usually her the one that woke up first, and on those rare occasions when he was the one who did, he would wait for her to get up to the shower, as she always did, patiently pretending to still be asleep. And after that it was just pretending nothing happened and the world believed that they were the same as ever, the same best friends, and they had to be extremely good actors because there were times when they believed it themselves.

XX

When he asks where to and she replies the Gym, they both know what they're leading themselves to once again. It's raining hard, so the weather seems to be in their favor, although it doesn't really need to be for it to keep happening.

The lights of the living room are on, but they keep the ones in the bedroom off. The yellow, warm light drifts through the half-opened door, and under the dim, still room where the traces of lack of use are at last beginning to fade, they kiss. And of course both know what will follow because that's what always follows, and it will probably be just like all the other times. No questions, even though they have mounted up inside both. The desire to ask always manages to fade.

She's already pleasantly shivering under him, and she wraps his arms around his neck, feeling his breath on her ear. The mere feeling seems to evaporate any kind of confusion, but she knows it won't last, that it's only momentary, and that it'll be the same again when it's over.

_How did we end up like this?_

Maybe if they had dared to ask since the beginning…

She doesn't want this anymore. This is supposed to be her best friend. She is his best friend. She eats junk food with him, she traveled with him for years, she fished him out of a river. She battles him, she fights with him, laughs with him, and screams at him, and cries for him, and she loves him. But this isn't right, and she feels his flesh against her own and wishes she could just have asked since the beginning.

_Do you love me?_

He looks up, his head hovers above hers. The words seem to down on him, and in the dim lights she can see his brown eyes widening at her and she can't help but wonder how he can still look so boyish and so child-like and so innocent and naïve. Everything seems to freeze for those seconds on which his eyes pierce her own, so wide, so familiar. She regrets asking, but he presses his lips so suddenly, so fiercely against hers and she realizes she has never felt them that way before and the regret becomes non-existent.

Tonight is different, because a question was finally asked, whatever it might have been. And the following morning will miss finding them on opposite sides of the bed, and he will not pretend to be asleep as he waits for her to get up, and she will not get up at all.

There is just so much they'll ask each other the following morning.

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**Ah, there it is, whatever it is. Hope you enjoyed it! :)**


	18. Reunion

**Wow, I've gotten quick with updates, right? Well, let's see for how long :P**

**I want to thank for all the encouragement and optimism I got from my last chapter even though it was... let's say different. I really appreciate it! **

**I want to give a small warning about this one: it isn't exactly 'pokéshippy'. I mean, the AAML is kind of implied... hinted at if you squint, maybe. It is more centered around Misty, Ash and Brock as a friendshippy thing. But I hope you enjoy it anyway because I quite like how it turned out. **

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**Reunion**

I find myself in the midst of a quite dull conversation with members from the PIA, not knowing how I ended up pretending to be interested in the new requirements that had just been implemented for unofficial Gyms in Kanto applying for League certification. A glass of wine feels cool against my fingers; although it seems to conveniently complete the green night gown I'm wearing along with the curls Violet managed to transform my rather sleek hair into, I can't help but wonder if it would look bad to satisfy the craving for a coke I'm having right now and leave the fancy drink behind, as untouched by my lips as it was.

My mind slips away from the conversation again and it focuses in an internal struggle I'm currently having: _wine or coke?_ And I actually find it more entertaining. At least before I realize the silliness of it, because nobody in the ballroom cares if my drink matches my attire or the fancy event I'm attending. I finally come to a resolve and excuse myself before walking to the bar and away from the conversation I was glad I was not being part of anymore.

The bartender seems confused when I ask him if I could have a coke, please, with lots of ice for the matter, as if he hadn't heard correctly, and he bends over a little with a slight furrow on his face to get a better earshot of my request. A coke? Yes, a coke, you heard correctly. Regular. And no, I would not like rum with it, thanks.

I finally turn away from the bar with an exasperated sigh and a glass containing my virgin drink, replacing the fancy wine I had pointlessly held before. I sip my coke and over the rim of the glass my eyes scan the wide, well-lit and pompously decorated room. My sight occasionally bumps with a familiar face and looks over the unknown ones as I wonder what to do next. I find myself dreading to go back to the conversation I had been part of before with the PIA members, and decide to go look for Brock instead, praying he isn't hitting on some fancily-dressed girl.

I make my way through the people until I finally spot my spiky haired friend some feet away from where I'm standing. As I intend to approach him I realize he's engaged in conversation with someone and seems to be highly enjoying doing it. I stop in my tracks, wondering if I should intrude into the enthusiastic exchange of words between them or rather turn around and search for something else to entertain myself with. But as I struggle between the two options his eyes land on me and his excited expression seems to increase in it's overboard excitement. He starts gesturing at me to go join them, and from the distance I frown and hesitate, a small smile playing on my lips confusedly.

I decide to approach him and his companion, ruling out the option of returning to a conversation I was probably going to contribute nothing to. As I take a few steps through the people, Brock signals the guy he was talking with to look in my direction and when he does I stop dead in my tracks once again, almost bumping into a waiter offering canapés to an old couple, and I wonder why on earth I didn't recognize him before.

My hand grips the glass of coke in my hand tightly until my fingers become numb, but I ignore the possibility of it breaking because I've just come across a face I haven't seen directly in years. I find myself facing a pair of brown eyes and an entanglement of messy black hair which I followed through years across the region and more, but which nowadays I only caught on the TV and magazines occasionally. I realize that even though the years have passed and his features have somehow sharpened, it is still the face that haunted me for years, the one that belonged to one of my dearest and oldest friends who I'd sadly lost touch with. I had loved that face once.

It takes me a while to recover, but after a few seconds my shocked expression turns into one of honest, delighted surprise and I finish tracing the steps that led me to my past. He's taller, I can see, and he would probably be much taller than me if I wasn't wearing the highest heels I owned. Look who I found, Brock exclaims, and I embrace Ash, nothing intimate giving the years we had spent apart, and tell him it is so, so good to see him. He embraces back, but it is over quickly and when I'm a safe distance apart I blush ridiculously because his eyes are still on me, as if he can't simply believe we're meeting again, and suddenly I feel conscious about the low cut on the back _and_ front of the dress I had borrowed from Daisy.

I resent the fact that it is hard to make conversation at first, but then it becomes natural and while we catch up I can't help but think it is just like it had been ages ago. The three of us might just as well be sitting around a bonfire in a clearing of those forests we traveled through ages ago, but the fact is that we're not. We're standing in a fancy ballroom crowded with smartly dressed important people, slow music, and chattering voices, most conversations concerning the League and whatnot.

It is in a moment of silence, just after Lance had finished giving a most inspired speech I hadn't paid much attention to, that a comment about the dullness of the whole event escapes my lips. But before I have time to regret it I find my friends surprisingly agreeing. We exchange glances, and while the guests return to their conversations after Lance has sat down again we make our way out of the ballroom and out of the building altogether, hoping no one would miss Cerulean's or Pewter's Gym Leader, or that high-ranking trainer who's rarely seen without his Pikachu.

Walking down the sidewalk I find myself craving for yet another coke, and this time maybe with some French fries on the side. And I don't feel conscious now because the meal doesn't match my attire, and neither does the 24/7 diner we're in. It doesn't matter because this is just like the old days. And while I sip my coke, and laugh at one of Brock's jokes, and wish Pikachu and Togepi were here, and while my hand bumps Ash's as we both reach for a fry, I realize that this conversation, and this reunion, is the most fun I've had that night.

Or maybe the most fun I've had in ages would be more accurate.

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**It seems that a different writing style has taken over me. Tell me what you think about it! And I apologize if this wasn't romantic enough... I mean, these one shots are all not exactly romantic sometimes, but maybe this one takes the prize?**

**Hope you enjoyed anyway, as always! Take care, all of you :)**

**Oh, and to clarify, just in case...**

**PIA: Pokemon Inspection Agency.**


	19. Somnambulism

**Thank you all for the reviews! I'm happy you all enjoyed the last chapter even if it lacked any actual romance or pokeshippy-ness. Here's another one I'm posting before my last high-school exams start tomorrow. So wish me luck :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't know why I keep writing disclaimers. But yeah, Pokémon not mine blah, blah.**

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**Somnambulism**

He hadn't realized how late it was until he was forced to look up from the GameBoy that had been clasped in his hands for the last four hours. His battle against a random Team Rocket member and his ratticate was interrupted when he suddenly heard muffled footsteps and the squeaking of the staircase as someone approached. Not yet selecting an attack for his virtual pikachu to finish off the non-electric rodent, his eyes met with a female silhouette hidden between the shadows of the dark hall. As it walked closer to the couch he was sprawled on, the lamp by his side shed light over the figure, revealing a pajama-clad Misty.

"Hey" he said simply, sitting up from his latest position and muffling the electronic music from the device on his hands against his stomach. He frowned when the red-head seemed unfazed by his behavior –for he was used to her usual scolding whenever he stayed up late doing what she thought was an 'unproductive waste of time and brain cells' –or when she didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence. Her face held a dramatic contrast between yellow lights and shadows, thanks to the lamp being the only source of light, but he could still clearly see her eyes looking in his direction, although it seemed like she was actually looking past him, unfocused and sleepy-like. Her red hair hung loose and evidently tangled by the sides of her blank face.

"Misty?" she merely blinked at hearing his voice before turning on her heels and making her way slowly towards the window on the far end of the living room. Her steps were heavy and she almost stumbled before stopping right by the window with her back to him. His lips spread into a small grin as he realized what was probably happening, seeing as it wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with it.

He set the GameBoy aside, saving his four hours worth of gaming first of course. The faint electronic music ceased and the room was left in complete silence, except for his own bare footsteps against the carpeted floor as he walked towards her. He stopped by her side; they were far from the couch and the lit lamp, so now he could only see her profile defined by the faint, blue moonlight that came through the window.

"Misty?" he said again, carefully placing a hand on her back. She was blinking slowly, heavily, and in the same slow manner she brought up a hand and rubbed her left eye "Why are you out of bed?"

"They took them" she said, her eyes still lost in the direction of the window, her eyelids barely opening each time she blinked.

"Who?" he asked, and because he liked to amuse himself with her condition, he added a little more dramatically "Who took them, Misty?"

"Team Rocket" she answered, her voice small and almost lacking emotion "they took Togepi. And Pikachu. In a big cage" she rubbed her eye again and he let out a chuckle in the form of a small gush of air as he caught a glimpse of a sleeping Pikachu curled on one edge of the couch he had occupied before. He guessed Togepi was in the same condition in the guest room upstairs.

"Did they? They're still at it after all these years, huh?" his voice had been infected by his chuckle, and he remembered a certain annoying trio in a meowth-shaped balloon. She just nodded, her head seeming too heavy for the task and her eyelids almost dropping completely. He rested his arm over her shoulders and he felt her body seemingly cuddling against his half embrace, her eyes barely open. He guided her away from the window in slow paces, careful not to wake her in any way.

"We have to get them" she said as they walked past the couch and into the hall.

"We will" he told her, arm still around her "but you'll go back to bed first, alright?"

"No. We have to get them" her voice had lost a little of its emptiness as a slight alarmed tone took over it, but still small and sleepy.

"We'll get them in the morning, ok?" he said, his hand rubbing the side of her arm reassuringly "They'll be fine. You'll go to back to sleep first."

"No!" she came to a halt suddenly, just by the foot of the staircase, making Ash undrape his arm from around her and look back at her with a frown "I don't want to!"

"Misty, don't worry. I'm sure Jesse and James won't harm them. The Boss doesn't want unfit pokémon, remember?" he said, although his voice was now humorless.

"No! I can't go back to Cerulean. I have to get Togepi. And Pikachu." she said, her voice getting more and more alarmed while he felt less and less amused "I have to stay. I have to stay and help. I don't want to go back. You can't make me. I won't."

He stared at her, both immersed in the shadows of the hall. He could barely see her face, but her outline was clearly defined. The humor of the situation had completely left him, and he placed a hand on each of her bare shoulders. He could not tell if her eyes were still half-closed, or if her face was still blank.

"Misty" his eyes got used to the darkness, and he could slightly make out some features of her face "You won't go anywhere alright? I promise we'll go get them in the morning, and after that you'll stay. As long as you want. Is that okay?"

The dark shadow that was her head nodded, just as heavily as before, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders he guided her up the stairs and back to the guest room, wondering why he had to learn these things from her, important things, when she was in that state, and knowing she'd eventually leave again the next day or the one that followed, because she had to.

She was already unconscious when she finally reached her bed, and he wondered why he had thought this could be amusing in the first place.

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**I've had to deal with my sleepwalking 11 year old nephew almost my entire life. It's funny sometimes, because I start asking him random questions and he answers even more randomly, which makes me laugh. There've been times when I've lost him while he's sleepwalking, so I have to look for him around the house until I eventually find him sitting in the bathroom or something.**

**But there are times when he's having bad dreams as he sleepwalks, and it's a little harder dealing with him. Not to mention, not amusing. So this is based on my experiences with him. **

**Hope you liked :)**


	20. Toaster

**Here's another chapter. I luckily finished studying early today and was able to type this down and post it, because I had originally written it on a piece of paper! I seem to be sort of inspired lately :D Well, wish me luck on the Technical Drawing exam I have tomorrow! Please?**

**Enjoy :)**

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**Toaster**

The doorbell rang throughout the apartment and, leaving the packing she was not even halfway with behind, she ran to open the door. A raven-haired someone appeared behind it, and for a second her eyes widened in surprise as she registered his presence before her. Gathering herself quickly before he could notice, she transformed her surprise into an indifferent stare. One hand still over the doorknob and the other against the frame, she blocked his way inside the apartment as she spoke a single, flat word: "Hey."

"Hi!" he answered as cheerfully as if everything in the world was normal and this was usual post break-up behavior. Defying the laws of personal space and privacy he walked past her extended arm and into the apartment, so casually that it made her frown.

"Packing?" he asked as he noticed the labeled boxes scattered around the living room, the empty shelves, and then turned to her with a quizzical look.

Hand still over doorknob, door still open, and frown still in place, she answered "Yeah. I'm moving back to the Gym."

He raised his dark eyebrows and nodded understandingly before turning back around and starting to slowly pace around the room, his eyes scanning his surroundings as if it was a new place for him. Which was not. If it was possible, her frown wrinkled even further.

She finally let go of the door and shut it behind her with a loud, banging noise. Her hands dived to her hips and after staring at him pace pointlessly around for a few more seconds she asked "_Why_ are you here?"

Stopping in the middle of the living room while his eyes traveled along the walls he answered "I, uh –I came to get back some stuff I left behind."

"I already sent you a box with your stuff," his calmness with the strange situation irritated her. How he could act so indifferently was beyond her "remember?"

His roaming eyes finally came to a halt as he seemed to spot something in the direction of the kitchen. He walked towards whatever had caught his attention and she followed him, wondering if she would ever be able to wipe the deepening frown off her own forehead.

"What are you –" her question was cut short when she caught him unplugging a small, white appliance from the kitchen counter.

"You forgot to send me my toaster" he proclaimed with all the tranquility in the world.

Her hands dropped from her hips and her eyes widened in disbelief. A loud, bark-like and terribly humorless laugh escaped her throat, to which he responded with a slightly surprised pull of his eyebrows that eased after a second.

"_Your_ toaster?" she asked, the traces of the fake laugh she had emitted before completely gone while she stared at him wrap the wire around the device in question "What makes you think it is _your_ toaster?"

He seemed to consider for a moment if he was being asked seriously, as if the answer was too obvious to even make the question in the first place, before saying "Well, _I _paid for it, didn't I?"

"Only because you broke mine!" she walked over to him as he clutched the toaster to his chest at her approach, holding it from the sides. She placed her hands on the top and bottom of it and attempted to pull it away from him, the thought of toast-less mornings almost sending a shudder down her spine, but only succeeding at moving it mere inches. His hands clasped the toaster tighter, and so did hers.

"No I didn't!" he pulled the thing back to his chest, but she didn't let go of her grip.

"Yes you did!" the memory of the fuming toaster flashed in her mind as clearly as if the incident had occurred just a few hours ago. So did the image of him pulling a brand new one, the one clutched between their hands right now, out of a shiny box.

"No –I –didn't!"

She fought against his resistance and if she hadn't been so focused on snatching the toaster out of his hands, she would've realized that the only thing separating their bodies from each other was the appliance itself, crammed between their stomachs.

"So what, it just _suddenly_ burst into flames" she said as sarcastically as her gritted teeth allowed her.

"Well, yeah!" his voice gave her a hint of jaw-clenching and she was glad she was at least giving him a bit of a struggle. He then changed his strategy of pulling the toaster and he moved on to forcefully unclench her hands from it, one tight finger at a time, only to have them curl back to the white surface as he tried with the next one "That piece of crap was so old it was probably the first toaster that ever existed! It was bound to break sometime!"

"_Ugh!_" she groaned loudly and her fingers let go of the toaster, but only for a second, before she wrapped her whole arms around it, one over the top and the other around the bottom, and pulled it against herself with more strength. His stupid claws were nonetheless still attached to it somehow "Just _GET A NEW TOASTER_!"

"I don't want to spend on a new toaster!"

If Pikachu would've been present, they would probably be already thunder-shocked onto the next century by now. Or maybe thunder-shocked while receiving a peaceful, reasonable speech from a spiky haired, squinty eyed someone about proper adult behavior when solving conflicts between ex-partners. But said someone was not there, and neither was the electric rodent for the moment.

"You're the League's freaking _Pokémon Master_! You can perfectly afford a new toaster!" she continued, and so did the struggle while her body bent forward with the object of their desires pressed against her stomach as his hands still tried to pull it back to him. The situation left them on a pretty awkward position, but neither seemed to notice as both tried to claim back the small appliance "Why don't you get one of those for four slices?! Or maybe those that toast pikachus on the bread!"

"I don't want another toaster!"

With a final, strong pull, the toaster managed to slip away from her arms. But it also managed to slip away from _his_ hands somehow, fly a few feet into the air, and then land with a noisy crash on the tiled floor. From the distance they stood they could see how the appliance seemed oddly deformed, the lever that used to be attached to the side lying a few good inches away from it. They stared at it silently for a couple of seconds.

"Great, Ash, that's just _great_!" her voice broke the silence exasperatedly while she threw her arms into the air "now neither of us has a toaster!"

He looked away from the clearly destroyed object and back at her face, not a trace of guilt visible on his features. Not that she expected any. Not from _him_.

"Way to go! That's the second toaster you've ruined in a year" her rant continued "maybe you'd like to destroy the coffee machine? Throw the microwave out the window? Tell Charizard to incinerate the whole kitchen, if you want to! Or maybe play soccer with the –"

"Oh, for Mew's sake!" her creativity spurt was unable to continue thanks to his exclamation and the fact that his lips were subsequently pressed against her own. She hadn't felt them in about a week, and doing so again seemed to dissipate any memory of a toaster and its destruction. Until, of course, she was back to her senses and remembered that the toaster was not going to repair itself, and that a toast-less morning equaled and atrocious one, in her own, honest opinion. So she forced his lips away from hers.

"Don't you dare think, for a second, that you're getting away with this. I expect a new toaster before tomorrow morning, Ash Ketchum."

Making that clear, she allowed him to kiss her again in a reconciliation that would make Brock proud.

He didn't need to know about the stupid toaster excuse, of course.

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**To make things clear; in this chapter Misty and Ash used to be together in a relationship while sharing an apartment, but broke up, and then made up. Only after fighting over a toaster, of course. I know my stuff is sometimes a bit confusing, so yeah :) Me apologizes.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	21. Unexpected

**I'm back! Oh, so much has happened in my life lately. But yeah, I am no longer a high school student and I'll be starting college soon. Wow, I can't believe I actually said that... Anyway, sorry for taking longer than expected, but I've been pretty busy... and pretty blocked too. Letter 'U' was also being stubborn and didn't want me to write it. Fortunately, I managed after a couple of tries :P**

**I hope you enjoy, and reviews are always appreciated! :)**

**Disclaimer: Pokémon is not mine, clearly. **

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**Unexpected**

It was funny how things could change so much in a matter of two seconds. It was just _hilarious_, really, and yet he wasn't laughing. He couldn't do much else besides stand –or _float _–there, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a frown that had made it to her forehead, and suddenly the water he was submerged in felt like a hundred degrees around his body, almost burning his skin. Or maybe it was just his own blood boiling, because the water had been fresh a few seconds before, and yes, things could change in a matter of seconds but the water in an Olympic pool couldn't.

"Yeah," he answered. He _lied_, actually, because he wasn't alright. But he couldn't tell her that because then she would ask and it would be awfully embarrassing to tell her what exactly was _not_ alright with him. Not that he _knew_, anyway.

"Okay…" she sounded uncertain, and he didn't blame her. She was probably sensing something was off, but he was sure she didn't know what that was. Why? Because if she knew she would be running to wrap herself in the biggest towel around right now and would not approach him for a few hours, maybe. And she would probably keep her distance until his visit was over, too.

Not to mention she wouldn't get in a pool with him ever again.

But since none of that was happening, and since she just kept sitting there so nonchalantly, and since she seemed to have shrugged off her uncertainty while deciding to fold one leg against her torso –why did she do that? _Why_? Wasn't sitting there already enough? –and wrap her arms around it, Ash decided that no, she definitely had no idea. And he was grateful for that.

"Are you hungry?" she rested her chin on her knee while the other leg kept dangling off the edge and into the water, and it was at this point that he started feeling unbelievably stupid because he had done nothing more than _stare_ for the past minute.

"N-no, I'm not," she froze at his response, her stretched leg unmoving while its toes barely made it to the surface, and her chin rising from its spot at her bent knee. Yes, he was just as surprised.

"What?"

"I-I'm not hungry…" he hated himself for stuttering. He hated himself for many reasons right now. And if he could bring himself to hate _her_ too, he would, because it was all her fault he was feeling this way. Totally, completely, entirely her fault. It was as if she knew what she was doing to him, and enjoyed seeing him suffer. It wouldn't be unlike her to enjoy belittling him…

"Seriously, what's up?" she sounded alarmed. Why wouldn't she, anyway? Especially after hearing your insatiable friend is _not hungry_, and is displaying an overall weird behavior on top of that. It was then that he realized she couldn't be doing this on purpose "Is something wrong?"

_Yes_, he wanted to say_, many things are wrong._ _We were having a perfectly good time teaching Psyduck to swim, but you just had to call him back and sit there, didn't you? And you just had to decide to wear that stupid swimsuit today, and your hair just had to fall that way out of your ponytail, and you just had to… to… _blossom…_ and… and…_

He couldn't blame her. As she stood up from where she had been sitting and walked over to where the towels hung over the plastic chairs, he knew it wasn't her fault. He should've seen it coming, after all. Yes, he had met many girls before, and no, _this_ had not particularly happened before. But he still should've seen it coming. He was seventeen. What did he expect, anyway?

So he settled for a different response "Nothing's wrong!" and a quite defensive one.

"Well… fine," she said, and he thanked every Legendary he knew, and the ones he didn't know, and probably a couple who didn't even exist, when she didn't press the matter any further, pulled the towel off the chair, and wrapped it around her body "_I'm_ starving. Let's go get something to eat."

She took a spare towel in her hand and extended her arm, gesturing him to get out of the pool and take it. He pulled himself off the water and snatched the towel from her hand, feeling more and more like himself by each passing second. Finally being able to _stop staring_ –yes, he was aware of how really embarrassing that was –he started dabbing the towel around himself, so he wouldn't drip all the way to wherever they would be getting food.

He looked down at the water drops on his stomach, disappearing against each dab of the towel. And then he looked up and frowned, for he found the red head staring quietly at the towel in his hand –or maybe not exactly the _towel_ –and her lips were a tight line, and her eyebrows were slightly creased.

"Hey," he said, and she instantly looked up at his face, and for a moment he would've sworn her cheeks were slightly pink "what's wrong?"

Her features contorted into an angry scowl, as if he had somehow offended her, and for a moment the embarrassment for what had happened to him before lessened somehow. He raised a single eyebrow, a gesture he had actually picked from her.

"Nothing's wrong!" she exclaimed defensively, just as he had done a little while ago, before turning on her heels and stomping off in the direction of the exit "Now come on, I want a sandwich!" she added, not less irritably, while gesturing him to follow.

Pulling his t-shirt on, both of his eyebrows rose, and it was a while before he followed suit. And it was even a while later, while he sat at the kitchen table and she prepared the sandwiches, completely refusing to look at him, when it actually downed on him; maybe he wasn't the only one for whom things could change, _unexpectedly_, in a matter of two seconds.

He felt his usual, permanent hunger return and he even chuckled a little bit this time. It _was_ funny. And _maybe_ if Misty weren't so focused on slicing a tomato, she would agree. Maybe.

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**Ash just realized he's _attracted_ to her. I didn't just made him a complete pervert. I swear I didn't! (Should've made that clear _in_ the fanfic...)**

**Haha, hope you liked! I can't believe I'm about to finish this...! Well, until next time :)**


	22. Vanilla

**Thanks for the ones who enjoyed and reviewed! :)**

**Warning: this one's short, drabble-like, and fluffy. Bear with me. **

**Disclaimer: I own a gigantic Pikachu plushie. A pokeball-shaped flashlight. A broken toy pokedex. A bunch of cards. The first movie on VCR. And other things I've kept from my childhood. I don't own Pokémon, however.**

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**Vanilla**

It isn't the candle she always insists on lighting every time she gets home from a tiring day battling trainers, or the shampoo that is always, _always_ on the rack in the shower, bought from the supermarket. It isn't the soap, either, or the body cream that she sometimes steals from her sisters, because she isn't one to buy her own even though she can.

It isn't the pleasant smell that invades his car every time she gets in it, or the way he later perceives it coming from her hair, after his nose has grown accustomed to it hanging in the air. Finding it again between her red tresses is just a whole new thrilling discovery, each and every time. It isn't the air freshener she gets him for his car when she realizes he doesn't have any, either.

It isn't the way Pikachu smells after she cuddles him against her while they watch a movie she's so engrossed with, or as they lie in bed just staring at the ceiling, or when she holds him just because she's happy to see him after all these months. It isn't the scent his jacket has after she returns it, having kept it, purposely or not, for the night.

It isn't the way he senses it in the fabric of her clothes when she's either folding them, or ironing them, or as she rummages through her many drawers searching for a particular garment. It isn't the way she patiently puts them on in the morning as she gets dressed, either, or quickly when she's running late for work, or discarding them desperately as he kisses his way down to her collarbone.

It isn't the way he can almost taste it on her lips, slight, and not overly-sweet, and so feeble, and just how he likes it. Not even the way he catches it on her breath, or as he buries his face in the curve of her neck and realizes it is the scent of her skin, and not some perfume she prefers not to spend on.

It's the way her eyes always travel along every single flavor of ice-cream when they visit the parlor, deciding to try a free sample of Butter Pecan, and Rocky Road, and the Flavor of the Month, before she finally settles for the usual one; vanilla. It's the way she raises an eyebrow at him while he devours his Banana Split in a waffle bowl and asks him if he really has to eat like a starved snorlax. It's the way she takes all the time in the world to finish her white treat, a pure scoop in the glassy bowl, as if she doesn't want to finish it because it is just too good. It's the way she always lets him have the cherry on top, and the rolled waffles that stick in every direction. It's the way she sighs after the bowl's finally empty, and he isn't sure if she's contempt or secretly wanting another scoop. It's also the way she longingly stares at the empty bowl when the waitress takes it away, thinking nobody notices, and when she refuses to have more even after he asks.

It's also the way that, later that night, she tells him she's going to miss him and makes him promise he'll write and call and just keep in touch. The way she still seems to refuse asking him to stay, just as she refuses a second bowl of vanilla ice-cream. It's the way he can then feel the traces of that simple flavor on her lips, even though he still hasn't fully digested the ice-cream monstrosity he ingested before. And just like that, the cycle starts again.

It's exactly what he misses the most when he's gone.

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**I've gone back to the roots of this challenge, it seems! But well, I'm working on a Valentine's one-shot. AAML of course. It should be up before the 14th :)**


	23. Weather

**I know, I know. It's been over a month. Shame on me! But seriously, I am so, so, so sorry for taking so long! I've been so busy I haven't even been able to answer reviews! I'll understand if you hate me now. It's just that it's been crazy this past month; not only did I start college, but I also had a pretty stupid accident (it involved ice cream and not watching where I was going) and I ended up getting stitches of a lifetime on my leg. **

**But I'm back, and I think I'll update 'X' quicker and I won't take much long. I promise I'll answer reviews now, I really appreciate you taking your time to send them.  
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**Sorry again, and I hope you enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Yet.  
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**Weather**

"Would you give it a rest?" he asked while his thumb kept doing the same thing it had done for the past half hour; skim pointlessly through all the available channels on TV, not even stopping more than a second on each one, which was what made the activity so pointless indeed.

"No, I won't give it a rest!" on the other hand, she hadn't stopped glaring stubbornly out the window for the past hour and a half, which was pretty pointless too since the thunderstorm wasn't showing any sings of stopping, no matter how hard she would glare at it. "_You_, on the other hand, could stop doing that. The noise is driving me insane."

"It's not my fault there's nothing worth watching," he said as the images flipped on the screen for a second before changing. Sprawled on his living room couch, bare feet comfortably propped on the table, he had already skimmed through all the available channels at least three times.

Her only response was an annoyed groan that he just ignored, since it hadn't been the first one to be emitted that evening. Without giving her a sideway glance, he could just imagine the redhead standing there, erect, arms crossed and infuriated expression in place.

"Why are you so angry anyway?" he asked after the hundredth thunder, channels still flipping on the TV, casting changing colors around the darkening walls and furniture.

"I told you already! I have work to do tomorrow morning. The inspectors are checking on the Gym, but now the stupid station is closed and I'm stuck here in your house, all because of the stupid weather!"

"Is it really that bad to be stuck here?"

She was about to retort that it _really_ was that bad to be stuck in his house, specially when she had to get to Cerulean as soon as possible (hadn't he heard what she just said? And why did the weather had to turn so awful _just_ for the day she decided to visit Pallet? Maybe a Legendary out there had something against her.), when a thunder interrupted her, followed by the sudden dimming of the lights and the end to Ash's insufferable channel surfing. Soon enough, they were immersed in total darkness.

"Power outage" his voice said from the shadows, earning himself another annoyed groan from his Gym Leader friend's part.

"Really, Sherlock?" he didn't appreciate the sarcasm, and mumbling 'idiot' under his breath (which she probably –and luckily –didn't catch because there was no comment on it) he made his way to the drawer in the kitchen where they kept a flashlight, some candles, and a box of matches in case of emergency.

"Pikachu, I need a hand with this thing," he said once he had finally found the flashlight but, after pressing the switch, absolutely nothing happened. He saw the rodent's silhouette propped on the counter just by his side, "a small spark will do, I think. Be careful not to shock me, though."

The creature chirped his own name in slight annoyance, as if letting him know he wasn't _that_ careless (although Ash had enough experience to know he _really_ was that careless sometimes), and after a few moments the flashlight was back to working perfectly.

It was while meddling with the matches and the candles that he wished he could just call Charizard inside the house, or call Misty for help. But given the state of things either option was equally dangerous, so it was a while after he finally managed to light the long, white candles, prop them in an old candelabra, and bring it back to the living room along with the now perfectly working flashlight.

A warm, orange light invaded the room and created strange shadows over the furniture as he entered. The light revealed his female friend sitting on one edge of the couch, just where he had been sitting before, the task of glaring out the window already given up, although tightly folded arms and clearly annoyed expression were still on her. He set the candelabra on the low coffee table, just where his feet had been before the power had gone out, and then sat on the opposite edge of the couch, Pikachu settling himself just between the two teenagers.

It was then that he realized how silent everything had gone, now that the 'noise', as Misty had referred to the sounds of the TV, wasn't there anymore. Of course, it was not _completely_ silent, for the storm still raged on outside and the heavy raindrops were hitting so hard against the windows he was almost afraid the glass would break.

It was after a flash of lighting illuminated the entire living room and turned everything black and white for less than a second, and after a thunder made the very windows shake, that he started playing with the flashlight. She hadn't spoken a word for a while, and wasn't showing signs of being willing to do so soon, and he didn't know if starting a conversation was a very good idea.

Flashlight on, flashlight off. And so it went like that for a while, pointing the circle of yellow light in every direction, appearing and disappearing and appearing once again while the only sound that existed was that of the rain and the switch going on and off, on and off. Ash really knew how to annoy the hell out of a person.

"Stop that!" she said after his toying with the device was just too much to bear. Pikachu's pointed ears went up in surprise and the light stayed on after that, resting against his gloved hands.

"Why are you so angry, anyway?" he asked, not for the first time that night, but irritation carefully creeping over his own voice now.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she said, now facing him for the first time in a very good while, her face marked by orange light and black shadows. Did he really have such a short memory span? "The inspectors will be there at eight and the station –"

"Yeah, yeah, and the station is closed, and you're stuck in Pallet, and you can't get to Cerulean, and it's all because of the stupid weather" he said dismissively, proving that there really weren't any issues with his memory span.

"You summed it up pretty well," she coolly said after a small pause while folding her arms and looking away from him. She was staring blankly at the candles (how her eyes didn't hurt because of looking so intently at a light was something he'd never understand), when a new thunder made its way to their ears.

"Well, you don't have to be such a pain about it." Looking away himself, his eyes focused on the far wall where the flashlight had been pointed to without moving for the past couple of minutes. The statement had been said more to himself than anything, but that didn't keep it from igniting her anger vent on him again.

"A pain? I'm sorry, Ash. I'm sorry for being such a _pain_ to you!" her voice was heavy with sarcasm, obviously, and still staring at the candles she spat "I'm just worried about my Gym, alright?"

Pikachu sat up warily, his small beaded eyes following the exchange between the two teenagers by each of his sides, both looking in opposite directions. It was funny how the electric rodent was mostly in charge of keeping things at bay during their arguments (although the results were often worse, if not pretty catastrophic), but the thunderstorm outside was too much of a risk for him to apply his thundershock on them.

"That's fine! I'm just saying you don't have to be such a pain about it!" he said, now directly at her, and half-regretting to have mention it at all.

"Well, next time I won't even bother coming, seeing as I'm such a _pain_ to you!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

His master's rising voice was Pikachu's cue. But because of the storm, there wasn't much he could do besides crying his own name over their two high voices and hope it would be enough to stop the yelling, if he didn't want to cause any dangerous electrical catastrophe, of course, which he didn't. And it was relief that washed over his small, yellow body when his voice died down and so did the other two, leaving a thunder to make up for the sudden silence.

It was then that both trainers realized they had been slowly rising from their seats towards each other, so with nothing more than a huff both returned to their previous positions and sat down on each edge of the couch and stared ahead. With this, the electric rodent finally relaxed and too assumed his previous position by resting back down against the middle cushion.

As if on cue, there was another thunderclap, this time more distant, and with that Ash stood up from his seat, flashlight in hand, and made his way across the living room and toward the cabinet next to the kitchen. The doors opened with a creaking sound and from the corner of her eye Misty could see him pulling something out of them. After a few moments he returned with what she then realized were blankets and a pillow between his arms. Slightly startled, she uncrossed her legs and arms, and made it to get up before he started speaking.

"The storm will be over tomorrow morning, and there's a train that leaves to Cerulean at about seven," he said.

"I –I know," she said, not particularly irritated anymore, while standing up from the couch and taking the blankets and pillow from his arms.

"I'll drive you to the station. You'll get there on time, the Gym will be fine." She nodded silently to this before he took the candelabra on his free hand and walked past her in the direction of the staircase, calling behind him "You know where the spare bed is. Now you can stop being such a pain in the ass."

She took the pillow from the top of the pile between her arms and following him, she threw it in his direction, hitting him perfectly on the back of the head without letting go of the fabric while calling him an idiot.

Returning the pillow back to the top of the pile, she walked past him while he stood rubbing the back of his head with the hand he held the flashlight on, not because of any pain she might've inflicted, since pillows _were_ pretty soft and she hadn't been that violent while hitting him, but out of surprise more than anything because she had mumbled 'thank you' right after the insult and grabbed his forearm lightly for less than a second.

Gathering his wits, he caught up with her halfway up the staircase, Pikachu following at his heels, and by the time they made it to the hallway upstairs he had already gained himself another pillow against the head for telling her 'just don't be a pain next time' rather jokingly but not very well taken.

At least when they went their opposite ways after he handed her the candles, each to their own bedroom, everything felt lighter and the weather was already getting cleared up outside. Ash stretched before dropping limply onto his bed and thought about his friend's peculiarity with a chuckle. Misty spread the blankets over the guest bedroom's bed, all under dim lights, and thought of apologizing next morning because maybe, _maybe_, he had been a little bit right. Just a little. Pikachu cuddled between his master's blankets and sighed contentedly, thinking he had had something to do with things turning out pretty well in spite of the nasty weather.

And with that, the power returned.


	24. X Ray

**Another chapter up! Wow, I can't believe there are only two more to go!**

**This is partly based on personal experience. Kind of. Well, not really, actually. I just got stitches about two months ago, that's it :P**

**Disclaimer: I live in Ecuador, my family tree goes back to Lebanon, and I don't look the slightlest bit Japanese. So basically, I don't own Pokémon.**

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**X-Ray**

"Yuck."

"That's not making me feel any better, idiot."

"It's like your insides are spilling out."

"Shut it!"

Had her leg not been as injured as it was, she was pretty sure she would've kicked him, and hard. And just when she was considering doing so with her other, uninjured leg, the light-blue curtain that surrounded them was pulled and a doctor walked in, holding a clipboard and interrupting their childish exchange.

"Miss Waterflower, is it?" He asked, walking over to glance at the wound that ran along her left shin, the one a nurse had already cleaned but hadn't really helped on making it look less gory. The doctor had a pair of deep green eyes, Misty noted, that shifted between her face and her injury.

Maybe it was because the doctor had very beautiful eyes, or because his white coat failed to hide a tight, built up chest under the fabric, or simply because the man was, in one word, handsome, but something made her say "Misty's fine" in a tone that made Ash raise a questioning eyebrow at her, which she ignored completely.

"Then Misty it is!" He said brightly, holding out a hand for her to shake "I'm Dr. Goldman and I'll be treating you today." He then extended his hand to Ash, who now stood beside her head.

"This is Ash." She introduced the black haired boy as they shook hands before he had a chance to speak.

"Is he your boyfriend? Very lucky guy."

"Oh, no, no! _No_, definitely not!" She corrected the doctor's ridiculous assumptions between embarrassed chuckles and a dismissive wave of her hand, trying to seem as unaffected as possible.

"Not in a million years," he added disdainfully, to which she shot a poisoned glare in his direction before turning back to the doctor, expression transformed completely to one of contrasting friendliness.

"He's just an acquaintance," he snapped as a response to his 'not in a million years' comment, disregarding their now eight-year-old friendship in its totality.

"Well, I apologize, then," he said before turning back to her wound and examining it more closely "I just figured a guy wouldn't be able to resist such a nice, young lady."

"Oh, doctor!" She hid her blushing face behind a hand, almost forgetting about the dull pain that had been shooting through her leg every couple of seconds since the little accident. She didn't even need to glance at her friend to know he was now probably either rolling his eyes or wearing a confused expression, given his thick-headedness of course. "Is it too bad?"

"Well, it's going to need stitches." He stood a little straighter and started scribbling in his clipboard. "May I ask what happened?"

For a second her smooth behaviour (or as smooth as it could get under such an injury) faltered, and after exchanging a quick glance with the boy who stood by her head she decided that telling the real story would be far too embarrassing for both of them. Being caught in a silly, Team Rocket-type of trap set by a bunch of lame pokémon thieves at their age was not very flattering, even if they _had_ managed to make it through with all their pokémon and personal belongings untouched, _and_ a wounded leg, after thunder-shocking the nameless thieves into the next century. All thanks to a quite amazing Pikachu of course.

"We were on the road to Pallet and there were some loose rocks…" She prayed for her improvisation to be the littlest bit believable, and it seemed to be because the doctor nodded understandingly. This motivated her to finish her completely fake story. "…And they gave away under us. He's fine, though," she added, pointing her thumb towards Ash.

"Okay, Misty. Then I'm going to get an x-ray of your leg first, just to make sure the bone's fine." He set the clipboard to the side and after pulling on a pair of plastic gloves, his hands tenderly placed a clean, white gauze against her quite unpleasant to look at wound. She was glad when it was finally hidden from view, giving one less subject for Ash to comment on, and the doctor stepped away. "I'm going to get a wheelchair for you and a nurse will take you to the radiography room. I'll meet you there, alright?"

"Okay, Dr. Goldman." The words came out in a quite dreamy breath as he disappeared behind the light-blue curtain, being sure to flash her a charming smile in the process. When she was sure he was out of earshot, lost between all the other patients, doctors and nurses in the Emergency Room, she sighed while announcing "what a nice doctor."

"Oh, please!" Ash's sudden disparaging tone was enough for her mood to go back to irritated and in-pain in less than a second, and it was with a stinging glare that she watched him as he re-positioned himself until they were face to face again and he continued, "the guy was a complete flirt."

"He was just being nice!" she exclaimed unbelievingly.

"A bit too nice, if you ask me. Not to mention you were flirting right back."

"I was _not_!" Her rebuttal sounded pretty convincing, she decided, but maybe it would've been more convincing if her cheeks weren't flushing so much, which they indeed were by that point. "I was just being nice! That man is about to sew my skin together, you know?"

"Then why didn't you tell him what really happened?" He asked, his brown eyes fixing daringly on hers while he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Hey!" She pointed an index finger right at his face. "I just saved our butts from complete embarrassment, you should be grateful! You know what falling into those ridiculous traps at our age means?"

"I couldn't care less, actually." He shrugged dismissively, turning his back to the bed she was sitting on and resting against the edge of it, just by her side. "And anyway, how old is he, forty? What a crib robber," he finished with a smirk.

She laughed at his statement, although she was sure to put as little humor as possible in the sound. "I'm almost twenty, for your information," she said after the fake laughter subsided, "which means I can actually handle any _real_ 'crib robbers'," she was sure to make air quotes with her fingers at her last two words. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were jealous. But since you're an eighteen-year old, over-sized baby, I guess that's impossible. Maybe I should stop hanging out with you, Ash. People will think I'm your baby-sitter or something."

"Funny," he said flatly, without mentioning that his tone proved the word otherwise. "Will you start hanging out with old, flirting doctors then?"

"At least they acknowledge a woman when she's right in front of their noses."

"I would if there were any around –"

This time she was already lifting her right leg over her left one, ready to kick her so called 'friend' as he smirked at his own, little, stupid joke, but both his words and her actions were cut short as the light-blue curtain was once again pulled back and a nurse entered pushing a wheelchair.

"Alright, Miss. Ready?"

She gave one last, bitter glance in his direction, making sure he got the message of 'this isn't over' without having to actually say the words. If he got it or not she couldn't say, for the only thing he did was childishly stick his tongue out, something she would've mirrored right back at him if they had been alone.

She made it to stand up, to which Ash slipped an arm under her shoulders to steady her and help her transfer from the bed to the awaiting wheelchair that would take her to Dr. Goldman in the X-Ray room.

"Oh, now you're trying to be nice, aren't you?" she murmured in his ear just before he unhooked his arm from under hers, speaking as lowly as possible so the nurse wouldn't hear.

"Just make sure your leg is the only thing he x-rays."

"Asshole."

Unbeknownst to both, the nurse behind the wheelchair smirked.

XX

"Love, I say, doctor."

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

The nurse filed Misty Waterflower's forms under a folder and placed them under that week's pile. She then joined Dr. Goldman in watching the retreating figures of the man's last patient and her supposed 'acquaintance' as they exited the building. He was bent over the wheelchair he was pushing while they exchanged a new wave of little insults they surely thought everyone was missing.

"Are you sure about that, Miriam?"

"Sure, Dr. Goldman. I haven't seen anyone bickering like that since Polly and that resident from Fuchsia wouldn't shut up last year. And everyone knows how _that_ turned out. Those two will be together in a week, I bet."

"I guess you're right, then," he said, tugging on the ends of the stethoscope that hung around his neck. "I see you're still an excellent eavesdropper, Miriam. Are you still good at predicting these kinds of things, though?"

"Sure thing, sir," she said, turning to the files once the doors of the Emergency Room closed. "Just as you're still good at provoking them. People will start thinking you're an old flirt."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Miriam." Tugging again on the equipment that hung around his neck, Dr. Goldman turned on his heels and headed to check on the next patient, an evident smirk plastered on his face.

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**HA! I don't know, I think I had way too much fun writing this. I missed dialogue, so I decided to add more of it in this chapter. Hope you enjoyed!**

**I also based this on an actual Pokémon episode. Episode 47 of the Indigo League, if anyone's interested. ;)  
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	25. Years

**Here's another chapter! I actually wrote like 5 different versions of 'Y', two of them being a completely different prompt from the one I chose. This is the one I settled with, because I just HAD to write about this. What is pokéshipping without it?**

**Disclaimer: It is obvious by this point that the only thing I own is a Pikachu plushie. The rest is not mine.**

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**Years**

If she hadn't looked closely, she was sure she wouldn't have recognized it. In fact, she doubted _anyone_ could recognize it. But as she stared down at it, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides, she had no doubt about it; that weird-shaped, blackened, charred-to-a-crisp piece of junk was indeed her bike.

She let out an exasperated growl that actually made some pidgeys flee from a nearby tree, and she kicked the ground so hard a chunk of mud and wet grass was sent flying into the air.

"How _dare_ he!" she bellowed to no one in particular, and the pidgeys that had remained in the branches of the nearby tree finally took off after their fleeing comrades, thinking better of staying near the thrashing redhead.

It was a while before she could bring herself to look at what used to be her bike again; the tires had been burned away completely, leaving behind the empty, deformed rims that had lost any sense of shape. The spokes that used to make up the perfect laces of her wheelset were now either pointing in any direction but the correct one, or charred so badly they seemed they would crumble away if she dared to touch them. The pretty orange color of the tubes was now lost to an ugly, black one, which seemed to be the only color the bike now possessed. What used to be the basket on the front had been reduced to a couple of burnt wires, and the saddle –the one she had _just_ gotten replaced a week before –was literally burnt to a cinder.

Something prickled behind her eyes, and she bit into the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out of pure anger. She had saved money for a whole year to fix up her mother's old bike so she could stop having to depend on her sisters' flowery, pink ones that barely rolled on smooth pavement. And now every single effort lay roasted on the grass, reduced to a carbonized piece of garbage. She wondered what her mother would think if she could see it, and the thought made her eyes ache even further.

She growled again and dropped to her knees, burying them into the wet dirt below her. She carefully placed a hand on one of the burnt tubes of the bike; it was still slightly warm, but nothing her hands wouldn't be able to bear. One of the spokes actually crumbled when she touched it, just as she had suspected it would, and she cursed the boy who had stolen it to the very pits of hell where, maybe, he would perish just as the bike had or worse.

"Stupid, little…" she grumbled incoherently as she got hold of the bike from the sides and carefully lifted it up. It was surprisingly light, and she guessed it was because half of it had already been reduced to ashes.

She stood with the charred bike balanced between her arms and looked at the dirt path that extended ahead of her. She was sure this was the road to Viridian City, the closest civilized area around, and if the idiot was half a decent person –because it was clear by now that he wasn't a completely decent person –then he should've headed to the city's Pokémon Center for a nurse to tend to the badly hurt pikachu he had carried.

The little rodent was the only reason she wasn't planning on beating him to a pulp. At least not yet. He had seemed extremely desperate to get help for the creature, after all. And even though it didn't justify destroying a stranger's property with so much as a hastily blurted explanation, she couldn't help feeling bad for the little thing.

So adjusting her grip on the bike to a more comfortable position, or as comfortable as carrying a burnt bicycle could get, she started walking in the direction of the city, ready to give the stupid boy a piece of her mind and make him, at least, repay for every single damage he had caused with his little, crazy antic. And he had better gotten help already for his pikachu, or she would file him to officer Jenny for quite a number of transgressions without a doubt. It would certainly be a small detour from her original journey, but she was sure it wouldn't take her more than a few days to get everything settled and be ready to get back on the road she had originally planned.

What she didn't know, as the strides she took toward Viridian grew wider and quicker and more desperate, was that it would actually take her much more than just a few days to get the freaking bike back, and that her 'small detour' would actually turn into a whole journey itself. And that years later, when the bike finally gets replaced, she would actually hesitate to take it back, for it would mean going her separate way from the stupid boy that had destroyed it in the first place.

But for now she's panting angrily with the bike balanced over her head, giving her the looks of a pretty insane girl as she stands before Viridian City's Pokémon Center. She can see him through the glass doors. That boy has some paying back to do, and he better do it quick.

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**I just figured the bike should have some sort of signficance for Misty. That's why I made it belong to her mother. I actually had to check a picture of a burnt bicycle to get this right :P **

**One more to go!**


	26. Zucchini

**Zucchini**

He didn't remember Pallet being this unbearably hot. Either he had been away for far too long and had started to forget things, or climate change was already affecting his little hometown. In any case, the cool lemonade his mother had left in the fridge before going out was as refreshing and welcoming as discarding his various articles of clothing and being able to walk around the empty house in only his boxers. Pouring the bittersweet drink into a glass, he sprawled himself between two of the kitchen chairs as lazily as a slowpoke would near the seashore.

He fanned his heated body with a gardening magazine and sipped the icy drink, letting it cool his tongue for a few seconds before gulping it down. The glass's perspiration dripped down his hand and onto his bare stomach, sending little pleasant chills with each drop.

He finally downed his drink, set the empty glass on the table and closed his eyes, completing the embodiment of laziness he had been portraying. Only his hand kept moving while he used his mother's latest issue of Fine Gardening as a fan, careful not to crumple it too badly. A shuffling sound from the outside made him open one eye for a fraction, just to close it back down after deciding the moving shadow he caught through the window was either Mr. Mime obsessively cleaning something in the backyard or his mom bringing back the groceries.

The door squeaked open, and then he was forced to widen his eyes, freeze his hand holding the magazine, and lose all sort of relaxation he might've acquired.

"Mrs. K, I brought you some –"

Yeah, that was definitely not his mother's voice.

XXX

She hurried toward the picket-fenced house where some shade and protection from the blazing sun awaited her. Once under the shades of the trees, she let herself slow down to a regular pace, re-adjusting the large, carton box between her arm and hip while she rounded the house in the direction of the back door.

She pushed it open, her eyes on the vegetables in her arm while the door squeaked familiarly and let her in. The moment she looked up, whatever greeting she might've been saying died halfway in her throat. Instead of finding the brown-haired woman with the sweet, welcoming smile she was used to see in this specific household, she found herself face to face with a half-naked male she hadn't expected to see since forever.

She didn't know what she was more shocked about; over the fact that he was only wearing boxers, or that said boxers had a silly pokéball print, or if it was simply the fact that the last time she had seen this particular male in person, he hadn't looked this grown-up or this underdressed. In spite of the changes there was no doubt it was _him_ because he still had those huge, brown eyes that never kept up with his age and that black mess instead of hair. And maybe she would've stared for all eternity if the box she held hadn't slipped from her arm and landed right on her toe.

"OUCH!"

XXX

Maybe it was the thud of the box when it fell, or the rolling sound of whatever greenish things inside it spilled over the tiled floor, or her pained exclamation. Whatever it had been, he was grateful for the distraction because otherwise he would've kept trying to decide if the girl who had just entered the kitchen instead of his mother was, in fact, his oldest traveling companion. He was finally able to _move_ and, dropping the magazine, he scrambled down to where she was now attempting to pick up the cucumber-like things and put them back in the carton box.

"Misty!" His eyes shifted between the scattered vegetables and the person crouched in front of him, who was failing amazingly at putting them back in the box. She was determinedly not looking at him, her hands clumsy at picking up the mess. He swooped six of the cucumbers in his hands and placed them in the box, which was more than what could be said about the single two the redhead had managed to collect.

"Ash, it's you! I didn't know… Sorry I –when did you…" she stopped, seeming to give up at trying to both gather her things and continue her so far incoherent sentence, and after taking a deep breath and still refusing to look at anything but the box she said, "for goodness' sake, put something on!"

At her words he instantly stood straight, realizing he had almost forgotten he was wearing nothing but one of his most childish boxers. "I-I'm so sorry," he stammered before backing away from the kitchen in search of his discarded clothes.

With each item he collected and pulled on, his face seemed to get a couple of degrees warmer and warmer, which was saying a lot thanks to the hot weather. At the same time, one hundred questions ran through his mind, like; _Do you come here often when I'm not here?_ And, _why are you bringing cucumbers to my mom?_ And of course, _how long has it been for your hair to be that freakishly long?_

Once he was fully and appropriately dressed he returned to the kitchen, hesitating at the entrance while he wondered which question he should ask first. He found her already standing, picking on a fingernail and staring out the window, the box with the green, elongated things he was still not sure were cucumbers neatly placed on the kitchen counter. She heard him come in and turned with a small jump in his direction, lowering her hands to her sides and widening her always bluish, green eyes. He stood still a few feet across from her, not knowing if he should be the one to speak first.

She was so different, but yet he was sure could've recognized her anywhere; her hair was actually down, and it was so long he guiltily realized they hadn't spoken in a very long while. He could see the sport swimsuit underneath her light, flannel shirt, disappearing under her denim shorts. He was about to open his lips when she beat him to it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were home," she said simply. She started picking on her fingernails again and he wondered if it was a new habit she had developed. "I wouldn't have… I mean… If I had known…"

"I just got here last night," he cut in, making her nod understandingly. A long, long strand of hair fell over her shoulder when she did, and he felt yet another, little pang of guilt. He quickly added, "I was going to call you… I –"

"No, it's fine," she wove her hand reassuringly, although he wasn't sure if he bought it. She turned to the box with the green vegetables, asking, "is your mom home? I brought her these."

"No, she went to the market a while ago." She nodded again, this time fiddling with the edge of the carton box. There were so many things he could've asked her right in that second; _how's the Gym? Are the pokémon doing well? How've _you_ been?_ But, being the person he was, he settled for the stupidest one. "Are those cucumbers?"

Luckily, she only let out a small breath that could be considered a little chuckle. "_No._ They're zucchinis. Your mom says she can never get them at the market here, and there was a fruits and vegetables fair in Cerulean last weekend. So I just thought I would… you know…"

"You visit my mom often?" he asked hesitantly.

"N-not _that_ often. Sometimes, I mean, every once in a while. It's usually when I have to come down to Oak's reserve. The professor has been checking on some of my pokémon for a while now."

"Oh," they were both nodding again, and he hated how it was the only thing they seemed capable of doing. With each second he became more aware of exactly how much she had changed while he was away, not looking. She played with one of her shirt's buttons, and he wondered when in the world had she turned so uneasy around him.

"I should go," she finally said, pointing with her thumb toward the backdoor over her shoulder.

"Wait, mom will be home soon," he said maybe too hopefully.

"I have a train to catch," she sounded regretful, or maybe he was imagining it. In any case, he appreciated the slight grin she then gave him. "It was nice seeing you, Ash. Make sure Mrs. K gets the zucchinis."

"I will."

"Well. See you around," she wove briefly and turned to leave, not seeming very sure about her last statement.

"Of course!" he called after her retreating figure, and she was already outside, the door clicking closed behind her, when he added, "I'll call you sometime!"

He stared at the ghost she had left behind for Mew knew how many seconds, her shadow already out of sight from between the kitchen windows. Almost zombie-like, he turned around and started exiting the kitchen, deciding to discard once again his clothes –for it seemed it was now even _hotter_ than before –and maybe have another glass of lemonade. It would all then be back to normal, the little encounter he had just experienced something he could ignore. Or at least try to. It seemed that after his absence she had left some things behind, right? So he should too.

And then his foot bumped into a forgotten, cucumber-like 'zucchini' that had rolled too far away from the others.

XXX

She was directly under the sun heat again, just having stepped away from the shady, comfortable trees that surrounded the Ketchum household. She couldn't help but squinting her eyes against the light, shielding them with one hand above her forehead and wishing the station weren't so far away.

Part of her felt bitter about the horrible weather, but she knew that was not only it. It wasn't like she had imagined a tear-filled reunion with his old friend. Or was he an ex-friend? Could people have ex-friends? It didn't matter, but she would've never imagined it being like it had been. Especially because she hadn't even expected to see him. It had been practically _ages_, after all.

She checked both sides of the diverging road, some feet away from the house, making sure she would not get run over by a car. Or maybe a cart or a pack of tauros was more probable, since this was Pallet.

"Wait! WAIT!"

She froze for a second, her brain processing what she was hearing and trying to figure out if it was actually real.

"Misty!"

It was definitely real, she decided, and she turned around to find him again, standing by the door of the picket fence that surrounded his home. She squinted her eyes further, just to make sure she was not having one strange illusion caused by the heat.

"What is it?" she called back. He had one of the zucchinis in his hand, she realized as her eyes adjusted. His face was scrunched up, probably just like hers, and for a reason something in her chest tightened.

"I'll call you," he said, and the three words were completely unexpected. "We should grab something to eat. Lunch…or dinner. Or we could eat these things," he gestured toward the zucchini he was holding, clearly unsure if they were even edible, "whatever they are. We… we have a lot of catching up to do, I think."

She didn't know how long she stared at his expectant figure, processing what he had said one word at a time. She felt slow, mostly –and he probably thought she was, too –but once she actually got it, she also felt her bitterness draining slowly away from her. At the same time, a smile spread on her scrunched up face, and she was sure every facial muscle of her face was now working. Damn the blazing sunlight.

"That'd be nice," she said, nodding again, but this time decidedly and for once happy to do it. "You have to hear what Dewgong learned to do. And you wouldn't believe about Lily's new boyfriend," she added, just for the sake of it.

"Well, at least she can catch a boyfriend, don't you think?"

She would've called him an asshole if she hadn't been so happy that this was finally more like she remembered it.

"Real mature, Ash."

"So I'll se you then?"

"Of course."

He tossed the zucchini in her direction, and when she caught it with both hands in midair, he was already turning back toward the house. She smiled to herself, and continued back in the direction of the Train Station. The weather didn't seem so bothersome anymore, and the vegetable felt comfortably cool against her stomach.

* * *

**I'm feeling sad, because this is at last over :( I had so much fun writing these! I want to apologize for the long wait, but words beginning with 'Z' are not very... inspiring. Or maybe I was undergoing a block. Either way, I finally made it and this is, at last, finished!**

**I want to thank all of you who read and reviewed this, especially the ones who have stuck with me through the whole thing. Thank you so much! I also want to thank my friend Claudia, for threatening me in the most cruel (and unlikely) ways so I could finish writing Zucchini ASAP, and for encouraging me for oh-so-very long!**

**I really appreciate everything :)**

**I would LOVE to hear your favorite ones! So reviews are very appreciated :) **

**It was really fun, and maybe, _maybe_ I could go for the 52 mark someday. AAML is just too awesome. Take care everybody!  
**


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